


The Sound of Silence

by Warriorette12



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Platonic Soulmates, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Build, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warriorette12/pseuds/Warriorette12
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki desperately wants to come into his own and prove himself by leaving his mark on the world. Victor Nikiforov just wants to come down from the pedestal people put him on and truly connect with those around him.And they both keep being drawn to each other through the tiny pair of wings on their wrists that signify their bond...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, thank you for reading this story. Just for some background information, this is a Soulmate AU where people who have soulmates (some people are just Normal and don't have soulmates) are born with one of four kinds of soulmarks:
> 
> 1\. Telepathic communication. One person touches their soulmark and can talk to their soulmate in their head. Language barriers do occur, as one’s soulmate may not understand the language of the other person. People who fall under this group are generally called Readers as shorthand for Mind Readers. 
> 
> 2\. Body swapping. Requires both people to touch their marks. One person touches their mark and it feels warm to indicate a requested switch. The other person has to touch their own mark to allow the switch to happen. People who fall under this group are generally called Swappers, short for Body Swappers.
> 
> 3\. Shared emotions. Touching the soulmark transfers your emotions to your soulmate. They can respond by touching their mark and sending you theirs. People who fall under this group are generally called Feelers. 
> 
> 4\. Written marks. Once a soulmark is being touched, anything marked on the skin of the initiating soulmate appears on the skin of the other. The instrument used to mark the soulmate also carries over but will not disappear until the soulmate who placed it removes the mark (If a pen is used, pen appears on the soulmate. If paint is used, it will appear on the soulmate etc). People who fall under this group are generally called Markers.
> 
> A person can have multiple soulmates, but all of their soulmarks only fall under the type that they were born as.
> 
> People can temporarily block their connection with any of their soulmates by blocking the mark with a patch.

_…Konnichiwa?’_

It bubbled up from the inside of his own head; a tentative greeting that was so clear and so sudden that it sent Victor tumbling to the ice beneath his feet.

_What the…?_

Victor scrambled back up, ignoring the slight stinging in his palm and Yakov’s shout from the side of the rink, and looked around. There were five other skaters around him, practicing their jumps and spins, but all of them wore intense looks of concentration as they tried to perfect their various routines. Victor, himself, had been practicing the choreography of his free skate program before his stumble. It wasn’t exactly perfect — he still needed to tighten up the timing of the expressive footwork that preceded his quad Salchow — but he needed to be prepared for the NHK Trophy, which was only a few days away.

Well… _Yakov_ thought he needed to be prepared. That’s why he was working him so hard right now. _Victor_ thought he was doing fine. He’d already performed this program at Skate Canada a few weeks before and, while he had to admit that his routine wasn’t objectively perfect, it was good enough to have won gold _there_. And he’d definitely won gold at other competitions with weaker programs before.

But Yakov wasn’t satisfied so here he was, back in St. Petersburg, running through the same part of his short program again and again and again and…

And then he’d heard the voice.

Nobody had called out to him, he knew that. The word had been too quiet for any of the skaters around him to have uttered, as none of them had been that close to him. He briefly considered that one of his soulmates had called out to him, but shook off the thought. He hadn’t been wearing any patches today, after all, so they all had a clear link to his mind if they wanted to bond with him, but he hadn’t recognized the voice, nor had he felt the usual tingling warmth from any of his soulmarks to indicate who had made the bond.

As a Reader, he bonded with his soulmates through a telepathic link and having secret conversations in his head with people who understood him, no matter how far away they were, was a comfort for the boy who loved meeting new people and sometimes felt lonely from his place on top of the world. But time differences were sometimes a pain and the connections were silent today. Even Yelfim, who was a student in Moscow and the soulmate he was closest friends with, hadn’t bonded with him all day.

Victor waited another second before he shook his head. Maybe he’d just imagined it. Whatever he’d heard, he certainly didn’t understand. It hadn’t sounded like Russian, and there had been no follow-up for whatever had been said. He had a feeling that he was missing something, a niggling thought in the back of his mind that hadn’t worked its way forward yet, but he couldn’t just wait around to realize what was out of place.

So the young skater came back out of his own head to listen to Yakov shouting at him. He had no idea what his coach had said, but he responded anyway, throwing out a quick apology and the flash of a smile, before getting into position to run through his routine again and again and again…

It wasn’t until practice was over two hours later, and Victor was changing back into his casual clothing, that he looked at his arms and froze. He’d been wearing a black, long-sleeved compression shirt while he was skating so he hadn’t noticed the clearly defined black soulmark on his left wrist until he had peeled the article of clothing off, but he was paying attention to it now. It wasn’t the mark itself that drew his attention. Nothing about the mark itself had changed; it was the same pair of outstretched wings — sharp, familiar lines that stood out against his pale skin. No, what had changed was the skin around it, or rather, the feeling of the skin around it. It wasn’t cold.

Now Victor was standing shirtless in an air-conditioned changing room at an ice skating rink, so feeling a little chilly wasn’t exactly unexpected. But for the 18-year-old who had gotten used to the feeling of ice on his wrist, the sign of a blocked connection, the lack of cold was a bit of a surprise.

As he stared at the pair of wings that spanned his wrist, he immediately thought back to two hours before and the mystery voice that had quietly penetrated his head. He placed two fingers over the soulmark and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to say anything out loud — the message would be heard by his soulmate whether he spoke it or thought it — but he wanted to make the moment feel more real. Besides, no one else was currently in the changing room so he wouldn’t exactly seem crazy to his rink mates by talking aloud here.

“Privyet. Kak vas zavoot?”

‘Hello. What’s your name?’ Silence answered him, but Victor couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face or the excitement that blossomed in his heart.

Could it be?

~ * ~

The next time Victor heard from his mystery soulmate, he was in Sendai, Japan. He, Yakov, and his rinkmate Sergei had arrived in the city for the NHK Trophy and, as much as Victor had wanted to explore the area after checking into the Nagamachi Inter, Yakov had insisted that Victor rest for the evening before early practice the next day. Victor, of course, tried to argue against that; he was 18, dammit, and responsible enough not to wander too far. He’d never been to Japan before and had practically jumped off the airplane, eager to take in his new environment.

“You can explore all you want _after_ you clean up your short program!” Yakov said, though.

“Why? You’re letting Sergei go out!”

“You are not Sergei. And he’s not the one who’s been performing inconsistently in these past few days."

Well, Victor couldn’t deny that. After his mystery soulmate had reached out to him, he hadn’t been able to keep the echo of that voice out of his head, and even he knew that it had affected his practices in his last few days at the St. Petersburg rink. There was no way he could tell Yakov that, though, so he just opted for crossing his arms.

“You need to rest, Vitya,” Yakov stood firm, his frown deepening even more, “You need to sleep off your jet-lag and be prepared for tomorrow and I _know_ you didn’t sleep a wink on the plane.”

“But Yakov…!”

Victor hated whining, but he couldn’t believe his coach was making him miss this opportunity. Yakov always had the last word, though, and the teen soon found himself lying in his hotel room, playing Solitaire on the new iPhone that he’d bought while in Canada as the minutes passed. After about half an hour had gone by and Victor had gotten sick of the card game, he flipped through the hundred or so photos he’d taken of his beloved Makkachin. After a few minutes of _that_ , he closed his eyes and visualized himself going through both of his programs; a mini-Victor spinning and jumping, ponytail flowing behind him, in his mind’s eye.

His sudden restlessness wasn’t due to any nervous about this competition. He was already at the top of the skating world and, at this point, gold was pretty much assured. Nor was he scared. He had no greater love than the ice beneath his feet. The feeling of the wind rushing past him as he practically threw himself across the smooth surface. The dull ache in his legs as he pushed himself to jump higher and spin faster. Even the sting of the ice whenever he fell out of a spontaneous quad he hadn’t even prepared himself for. There was no better feeling than that for the teen. Yakov called him reckless, but he liked to think of himself as just _living_.

During competitions, exhilarating the audience — hearing the cacophony that erupted from the faceless masses every time he struck his final pose — was his favorite thing ever. He would do anything to keep them cheering. Everyone looked towards him as the prodigy, the ace, the boy who kept his youthful grace even as he was losing his boyish features. He loved every minute of it.  No, he wasn’t nervous. He would always be the first one on the ice, no matter how taxing it sometimes was.

So why was he beginning to feel like he was spinning his wheels, wanting more when there was nowhere to go?

He and Sergei weren’t sharing rooms, but he still bolted up and looked around instinctively when a small voice cut through the silence of the room. But there was the warmth in his wrist, indicating an attempted bonding. After feeling cold for so long, the feeling of actual warmth was definitely an odd one. His eyes caught the green LED of the clock beside his bed — 7:00 PM.

_‘A-ano…konbanwa?’_

‘Konbanwa’? That was a phrase fresh in Victor’s mind. ‘Good evening’. He’d learned it from the textbook Yakov had thrown at him one day, as part of the basic Japanese he was told he would need while in Japan. He’d heard it on the lips of the taxi driver who’d taken them from the airport to their hotel. So his soulmate was Japanese, or at least spoke the language, and was somewhere where it was evening.

Victor, ever the romantic, momentarily wondered if his soulmate was actually in Sendai with him, but his rationality quickly shot down that thought. That would be too much of a coincidence. Unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, the teen grabbed his left wrist and responded with the little Japanese he had learned.

_‘Konbanwa! Watashi wa Victor desu! Onamae wa nan desu ka?’_

His pronunciation of the foreign words didn’t sound any better in his thoughts than they sounded aloud, but it was the best he could do at the moment. In the short silence that followed, he released his wrist and allowed himself to wonder about his soulmate. Who were they? What did they look like? Where did they live? Did they have any siblings? What was their favorite thing to do? What was their favorite food? Did they like dogs? Or were they a cat person? Question after question shot through his head at a mile a minute, racing and swirling past each other as he waited for a response.

He’d wondered these things about all of his soulmates, at one point or another, as each one had appeared over the years. He couldn’t help it. He loved learning about the mysterious people who were somehow connected to him by the odd biological mechanisms that were soulmarks or, as _he_ liked to think of it, by fate. He liked hearing the different personalities laced within the voices that were conjured by him touching his soulmarks, from the bold, sarcastic tone that Claire had when he touched the comet on his back, to the gruff seriousness of Tobias’ voice that reminded him of Yakov when he grazed the scales of the fish on his shoulder, to the light-heartedness that tinted each Russian word from Yelfim’s thoughts when he clutched the leaf on his right hand. The voice of his winged soulmate, however, was neither bold, nor serious, nor laced with laughter. It was shy and hesitant, and that only piqued Victor’s interest more.

 _‘… Konbanwa, Victor. Patchi wo kite, gomen nasai. Boku wo yurushite kudasai! Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.’_ Now that his soulmate had said more than one word, Victor could tell that his soulmate was a boy like him. He was definitely younger than Victor too, with his voice still holding the awkward pitch of a kid who was just escaping the clutches of puberty.

Victor frowned. His Japanese wasn’t super advanced, and he didn’t understand all of what his soulmate had said, but he had picked out the words ‘patch’, ‘sorry’ and the phrase ‘please take care of me’ so he figured he could piece together what his soulmate had said…hopefully. He assumed his soulmate was apologizing for wearing a patch so he shook his head before gripping his wrist again, desperately wanting to assure the boy that there was nothing to worry about. Victor wracked his brain for the few Japanese words he knew that could possibly pass for a reply.

_‘Um…Anata wa gomennasai…naze desu ka?’_

Okay, now Victor was sure he’d gotten that wrong. He didn’t know how far into this conversation he could go before being unable to keep up so, before his soulmate could respond, he quickly added:

_‘Do you understand English?’_

There was a pause.

 _‘A little bit. Not much.’_ His soulmate sounded a little ashamed to say it.

Victor felt a hopeful, though. ‘A little bit’ was still better than ‘not at all’. Victor had been lucky so far in that, although all his soulmates were spread across the world, English that allowed them to circumvent whatever language barrier they might have had. It allowed Victor to talk to Abbas, who was Egyptian, and Tobias, who was German. For the latter, Victor had been learning a little bit of German from his friend and fellow skater, Christophe Giacometti, but English was still much easier for Victor and Tobias to use.

 _‘That’s fine.’_ Victor replied. English was good.

 _‘But!’_ his soulmate said with a sudden ferocity, _‘But, I will learn more…for you. Don’t worry!’_

Victor couldn’t help but smile softly as he thought about his soulmate learning English _for him_. He knew it would take a while, but he was suddenly excited for the day when they’d be able to understand each other well enough to properly get to know each other.

_‘Thank you!’_

There’s an awkward pause before, _‘It is my birthday today.’_

Hmm? That was nice to know. Now Victor was back to wondering again. How did he celebrate it? Was there cake? Did he receive gifts? How old did he turn? He also made a mental note to remember November 29th as a special day. Because it was his _soulmate’s_ birthday. None of his other soulmates had November birthdays.

_‘Happy birthday!’_

_‘Th- thank you. I am 15 today.’_

_‘Cool. Did you do anything fun today?’_

_‘…I skated with my friends. They had fun too.’_ Victor could hear a hint of excitement in the boy’s voice at the mention of skating and he smiled.

Victor felt like he was floating, he was so giddy. He couldn’t believe they were actually _talking_ after a year of silence. And his new soulmate was a skater! Was this actually happening? Victor closed his eyes and reveled in the happiness that grew like a bubble, slowly encompassing him, filling him with a warmth that wasn’t entirely physical.

His soulmate spoke up again, _‘I must go now, sorry. I eat dinner with my family so...’_

…Aaaand there went the bubble. Victor had to let go of his arm of a moment so that his groan of frustration wouldn’t pass through the bond. He couldn’t believe his soulmate had to be pulled from his grasp so soon, especially when they’d said so little. When were they going to bond again? Victor hoped it would be soon. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to get his shy soulmate out of his mind for the rest of the evening. He might not even be able to get to sleep that night. But, as much as he didn’t want to, he had to let his soulmate go.

At least for now.

_‘Okay then. Bye.’_

And then the ice was back. His soulmate must have put the patch back on. But, even though the bond had been broken, Victor kept his eyes on the mark, even as he lay back, with a ridiculously large smile on his face.

The wings on his wrist, which had bloomed out of nowhere a month before his 17th birthday, had been cold since the day after they had appeared. While he hadn’t understood why his soulmate hadn't jumped at the chance to get to know him, as he had wanted to from the moment the mark had appeared, he didn’t hold it against him.

Although Victor had personally been very excited to bond with his soulmates when his own marks had started appearing at age 13, he had also seen other skaters his age who had resolutely ignored their soulmarks. Granted, many of them didn’t go as far as to patch up their soulmarks, allowing their soulmates to at least bond with them . Victor remembers seeing Markers like Georgi letting their soulmates write all over their skin while they were too nervous to write anything back. But some of them did patch up their marks, preferring to spend an extra few minutes in the changing room to place the beige-colored patches on every mark they could reach before heading out onto the ice.

So Victor got used to feeling cold at his left wrist. He got used to it over two whole years after failing to hear a response whenever he’d tried bonding before, calling out into the depths of his mind in the few hours a day when the cold feeling disappeared. The only consolation he had that his soulmate hadn’t placed a _permanent_ patch on was that his wrist never felt hot before the cold came back.

But finally, _finally_ , they had called out to _him_! After two years of silence, after he’d almost given up on connecting with the one soulmate who didn’t answer back, after he’d gotten used to the one icy spot on his entire body. _They_ had bonded with _him_!

~ * ~

Victor was in the elevator half an hour later, heading down to dinner with Sergei, before he realized that he still hadn’t gotten his winged soulmate’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This story basically came out of me wanting to do something with the 5 pages of soulmate AU meta I had written one day. I don't know exactly where I'm going to take this story, but I had a lot of fun writing this first chapter so I'll keep going. I'm going to try and keep this story somewhat canon-compliant, but some things will have to be different. I also tried to stay accurate to real life with certain details and dates, with the timeline assuming the year we see in the show is 2016. The NHK Trophy WAS held in Sendai in 2007 on Nov. 29, Sergei (Dobrin) was a real Russian skater who trained in St. Petersburg who went to the NHK Trophy in 2007, the iPhone 2G was released in 2007 (and you KNOW Victor would get it). I don't think I'll mention it in-story, but I made Victor's first bond with Yuuri on the 25th of November because that's when the Japan Junior Nationals was going on and I figured Yuuri would make it and be nervous enough to reach out to Victor.
> 
> So what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Curious to read more? I'm thinking of making the next chapter be from Yuuri's POV but I'm not sure yet.
> 
> Check out my other works, if you want, or find me on tumblr @chasingfandom (anime side-blog) or @warriorette12 (main blog)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for waiting patiently for the second chapter! I've been really busy with university and haven't exactly had the free time to write much of anything other than essays. Ugh! I had a lot of ideas for this second chapter, though, so its longer than the first one. That sort of makes up for the delay, right? 
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri knew that he’d be in for a long day when he woke up on Christmas Eve to find a guy inhabiting his sister’s body.

“Morning, Yuuri,” not-Mari Katsuki said when Yuuri padded downstairs for breakfast around 11 AM. She was already sitting at the low dining table, one bowl of miso soup and half a bowl of white rice in front of her, “Sleep well?”

Yuuri, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, only nodded. He _had,_ in fact, had a good rest the night before.  Given that it was a Monday, he’d usually be up much earlier than this, scarfing down his breakfast before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading to school. But it was the beginning of his winter holidays and he’d eagerly taken advantage of the extra five hours of sleep. The extra sleep had also allowed his body to recover from the lingering soreness of training that hadn’t gone away on Sunday.

Yuuri had missed the feeling of waking up naturally and, for the first time in months, he could actually fully appreciate the warmth of the comforter around him, the welcome weight of Vicchan on his legs, and the peaceful stillness of his bedroom. If he hadn’t promised to meet up with Yuuko and Nishigori around 1 o’clock (and if his stomach hadn’t growled so loudly after an hour of lying still, demanding sustenance) he honestly felt like he’d be happy just staying in bed all day.

“Good morning, Mari-neechan.” Yuuri said, fighting back a stray yawn.

As Yuuri sat down across from Mari and picked up his chopsticks, something at the back of his mind picked up on the fact that something about his sister was a bit off. But it wasn’t until he glanced up from his meal and noticed the red dot on her cheek that he realized _why_ that was an important observation.

“Oh! You’re not Mari…”

Honestly, it really shouldn’t be that jarring to him anymore. Mari was a Swapper and, lacking the same apprehension that Yuuri had with his soulmates, liked switching every once in a while. She said it was fun to temporarily peek into the lives of the people who had their mark on her body. Yuuri could only take her word for it. She always had interesting stories to tell when she got back to her own body.

He couldn’t really complain. As far as Yuuri knew, she had five soulmates. The two that she switched with the most frequently, Nico and Airi, seemed nice enough. They were always polite enough to indicate when they were inhabiting Mari’s body, in their own way, and to not mess around with her body or her personal things. Nico, being from Italy, had even learned Japanese so that he could talk with the rest of the Katsuki family if need be and, while Yuuri had avoided or outright hidden from his sister’s soulmates when he was younger, he had slowly gotten used to making small talk with them if they happened to be in the same room. Especially Nico, who treated him a bit like his own younger brother. Yuuri was particularly grateful for the fact that Nico was really talkative, understanding how awkward Yuuri could be. It definitely saved him from always trying to come up with things to talk about with the young man wearing his sister’s face.

Yuuri always thought it was lucky that he was a Reader. He couldn’t imagine being vulnerable and letting _anyone_ take control of his body, even if it was for a short amount of time. Hell, he could barely work up the courage to let his own soulmates speak to him inside his head. Being a Swapper just seemed too invasive. And dangerous. He’d heard some horror stories about soulmates switching places, and then one of them refusing to switch back, leaving the other one stuck living their life. Or one of them completely ruining the other’s life, or putting them in danger, before switching back.

Yuuri had once mentioned these stories to Mari, but she had just laughed.

“Yuuri, don’t worry,” she had told him, ruffling his hair, “I’ve been switching for years now and none of them have run off with my body _yet_! Besides, they have to worry about the same thing whenever _I’m_ in _their_ bodies. That’s what setting boundaries is for. We’ve become good friends over the years for it and we trust each other a lot.”

It still felt a bit creepy for Yuuri, though, to stare at his sister and know that a different person was looking back at him through her eyes. This time, the signature of the red dot on her cheek told Yuuri that it was Nico sitting across from him.

“Mari left a note saying that your holidays began today and that you’d probably sleep in,” Nico said in Mari’s voice, “So I thought I’d wait to greet you.”

“That was nice of you, “Yuuri muttered into his bowl of rice, “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks,” Nico replied, letting a soft smile cross Mari’s face, “And you? How’s your skating practice going?”

“Pretty okay,” Yuuri said. He made no mention of the Junior Nationals, “I’ve started practicing more often now. I’m trying to get the hang of the triple Lutz. It’s quite difficult.”

“Ah, I see.” Nico said, although Yuuri didn’t think he actually _did_ see. He knew about as much figure skating as Mari did.

An awkward silence fell between them as they turned back to the bowls in front of them. This was the part that Yuuri hated most.

“So…” Yuuri started before trailing off. He wanted to ask ‘What are you doing here?’ but couldn’t figure out how to do so without being rude. He didn’t want Nico to think that he didn’t want him there, but he was curious as to what could have triggered the switch. This was the first time he and Mari had switched so early in the morning, given that they usually accommodated the time differences between them when they switched. Yuuri was _pretty sure_ it was about 3 AM in Italy right now.

Luckily for him, Nico seemed to notice his distress and answered the unspoken question.

“I was in Chamonix with my family for Christmas and I remembered that Mari had said she’d never gone skiing before so...”

“Oh,” Yuuri said. He supposed it was a nice thing to do for a friend on Christmas Eve. “That’s cool. How long have you been here, then?”

“About an hour. It’s almost 3 in the morning there, but I wanted to catch your mom early so that I could ask her to let Mari off work for the whole day. She seemed pretty understanding.”

“Oh, so Mari-neechan will be gone the whole day this time?” Yuuri wondered aloud as he began eating.

“Yeah. Mari also said that Christmas Eve was a pretty special day here, rather than Christmas Day, so I thought I’d do something special for her now, y’know?”

That gave Yuuri pause.

Wait…

Surely Nico must know by now that Christmas Eve was a _romantic_ holiday here…

“Do you…do you like Mari-neechan?” Yuuri looked up to find his sister, or the boy behind her eyes, blushing.

“Maybe,” Nico shrugged, “Maybe a little. I mean, as much as I can without knowing her in person, if that makes sense.”

Yuuri tilted his head in confusion.

“How?”

Nico stayed silent for a minute or two before responding.

“Well, it’s more like a second-hand kind of thing,” Nico started, running fingers through Mari’s hair, “I feel like I’ve gotten to know her through the people I interact with every time we switch and through the notes we leave each other. Believe it or not, but personality can shine through writing quite easily. Your sister can be downright _sassy_ in her messages.” Nico chuckled to himself and Yuuri had to smile. Oh, _he knew_. In fact, being Mari’s little brother, it sometimes felt like he couldn’t _avoid_ her sarcasm and spirited teasing.

“I feel the most comfortable switching with her too. I can tell she’s a really interesting person, once you get to know her, and I feel like I want to know more. I like that she’s so laidback and will do cool things like pierce her ears multiple times and dye her hair, just because she can, or let someone like me switch with her often, not caring about how scandalous that might seem to those around her. I guess that’s the nature of soulmates, though; being connected to people who would be perfect for you is kind of the whole point. I mean, once we were comfortable with switching, we got along pretty well. But I’ve been switching with Mari for a few years now and I feel like I want us to stay platonic soulmates. I don’t think she knows how I feel, but I figured that I’d have a chance of her liking me back if I did stuff like this more often…”

Yuuri stared, feeling his face heat up as Nico explained. He couldn’t help it. Hearing about someone liking his sister was definitely embarrassing, but this whole situation was new to him. He didn’t think that anyone could really fall for someone without knowing them face to face. He thought you’d have to actually see them and talk to them in order to get to know them. Then, if you liked them enough, you would fall in love. Could it really work like Nico was saying? He’d never considered it.

As Nico talked, Yuuri self-consciously scratched at the patch on his right knee, suddenly very aware of the blocks that he’d placed on the bond between him and his own soulmates. Could he really have such a connection with them, if he wasn’t so shy? If he wasn’t so afraid of letting them know who he was? He had always been a little uncomfortable with the idea of having someone else’s voice in his head and he figured that, if they ever _did_ converse, his soulmates would be quickly disappointed by his mediocrity. The soulmates of the people he knew always seemed to lead interesting lives and he was just… _him_. Sure, he was a figure skater, but he wasn’t a particularly great one, and the idea that they’d find out who he was and see his failures was a little scary.

It had become easy then, after two years of doing so, to slap on patches every morning and ignore the mysterious people who were supposed to be his other halves. Nobody outside his family was likely to ask him about it. And if anyone did ask, he could hide behind the excuse of needing to focus on his skating without having voices in his head. It had only been a month ago, when he’d finally reached out to one of his soulmates in desperation and he had to admit that _that_ encounter hadn’t been too bad. Maybe a little awkward, since they had barely understood each other and the conversation had been short, but not _bad_ …

If he took off his patches more often, leaving the bonds open, could he actually get to know his soulmates like Nico got to know Mari, without them judging him?

While Yuuri was lost in thought, Nico seemed to realize where he was and he jolted out of his own reverie, laughing nervously.

“Haha, look at me! I’m a 22-year-old man spilling my heart out in front of my soulmate’s 15-year-old brother! How sad is that?” He then leaned over the table and winked conspiratorially, “Don’t tell her when we switch back, though, understand? Let’s keep it between us guys for now.”    

Yuuri shook his head and smiled, although his face was still warm with embarrassment, “I’m glad you care about my sister. Why don’t you give her your number so you can talk?”

That wasn’t particularly uncommon for soulmates who weren’t Readers. In fact, exchanging contact information was usually an important part of the relationship between soulmates who were countries apart.

Nico laughed nervously again, “That’ll almost be like asking her out directly. We’re friends now, but I’ve always been afraid that if I ask for her number, she’ll immediately see that I want more and stop wanting to switch with me. She’s never talked about being interested in anyone before so…”

“I don’t think she’ll mind,” Yuuri said kindly, “Just write it on a piece of paper or something, so she sees it when you switch back.”

“It’s not that easy, kid,” Nico said, leaning back on his palms and staring up at the ceiling, “You’ve probably had a crush or two, at your age, right? Asking girls out doesn’t get any easier when you grow up.”

Yuuri didn’t bother correcting him to say that he’d never really thought much about crushes. He suddenly didn’t want to talk about Mari’s love life anymore. Feeling his face grow warmer, he looked up at the clock on the wall to avoid responding.

Oh, was it midday already?

  
“Sorry,” Yuuri said, picking up his half-eaten breakfast to move to the kitchen, “I told Yuuko and Nishigori that I’d hang out with them today so…”  
“Oh!” Nico sat up again, suddenly interested, “Are you going skating?”

“Yeah, at Ice Castle.”

“Can I come watch?”

Yuuri hesitated. He never really liked skating with an audience. There was too much pressure to skate his best, which made him nervous enough to fall more often. It was fine when it was Yuuko and Nishigori, because they were his friends and they skated too, but he didn’t know how to feel about someone like Nico watching him when he fell.

Nico stood and put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder in the silence, although he quickly removed it when he felt the boy flinch under his touch, “Mari told me that you got to the Junior Nationals last month.”

Yuuri’s heart sank a bit. That must mean she also told him how he’d placed. And why.

‘ _So why did you ask about how my skating was going, before?!_ ’ Yuuri thought, gritting his teeth. He didn’t want to be reminded of that particular failure right now. But Nico wasn’t done.

“I don’t really know much about figure skating, but I can still tell that you did well in your first major competition. So don’t lose hope, okay?”

Yuuri sighed. Minako-sensei had told him more or less the same thing after he came home once the Junior Nationals had ended. After the two days of competition had passed in a whirlwind of step sequences, spins, and anxiety, Yuuri had found himself in a very frustrating 10th place. He thought he’d do better, for all the work he’d put in, but it hadn’t mattered once he found himself among the other Japanese skaters. He hadn’t expected to make the podium on his first go (although a boy could dream) but still…

10th wasn’t great.

Minako’s words hadn’t helped ease the disappointment rolling about in his gut. Nor could they distract him from the feeling that, no matter how hard he had worked, he was still too weak to keep his anxiety from affecting his performance in the end.

Yuuri appreciated Nico’s words. He really did. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself again.

“Thanks,” he said, continuing towards the kitchen, where he could see his mother preparing lunch, “But I was thinking it would just be my friends and me today.”

He didn’t wait for Nico to say anything else. He walked into the kitchen, greeted his mother, and let her know he wouldn’t be around for lunch.

As Yuuri ran back up to his room to get dressed, he wondered how Mari would like skiing.

~ * ~

“So Nico’s just going to let Mari go skiing with his family?”

Yuuri let out a grunt in response as he reached down to touch his toes. As he savored the stretch in his calves, he looked up to see Yuuko on the bench, halfway through lacing up her skates, with a faraway look in her eyes. She had a small patch on the back of her hand, as she always did whenever they went skating, covering what Yuuri knew was a small star. He noticed that the patch she’d chosen today was pink instead of the usual tan-colored ones she usually wore.

Nishigori, standing up from his own stretches, let out a short laugh, “He really didn’t think it through, did he? I mean, she’s having all the fun and he’s forced to just lounge about, doing nothing. What’s the point if he’s not there with her?”

“Don’t say that!” Yuuko said, “I think it’s sweet of him to do it like this. What do you think, Yuuri?”

What Yuuri thought, at the moment, was that he was beginning to regret answering his friends honestly when they had asked how his family was doing. He hadn’t expected it to turn into _another_ conversation about his sister.

“He wanted to come along and watch us skate, but I told him it wouldn’t be anything serious.”

“Aww,” Yuuko pouted, “But that’s no fun. We haven’t seen him in _ages_ and I wanted to know what he’d think of the progress I’d made with my routine.”

“Who knows,” Nishigori added, “Maybe we could have gotten him to join us.”

Yuuri stood up and slipped his feet into his own skates, “You know that’s never going to happen! Mari would have a fit if she returned to find her body sore and covered in bruises.”

“Well, since Mari’s never gone skiing before, we know that Nico’s going to wake up to find _his_ body sore and covered in bruises at the very least so…”

“Takeshi-kun!” Yuuko protested, although she was clearly fighting to keep a smile off her face.

“What?” the older boy said, raising his hands, “I’m just saying that Yuuri could have probably warned Nico about the _possibility_ of finding himself in a world of pain and then let him decide if he wanted to have his revenge now or later.”

“And _that_ kind of thinking is why it’s probably a good thing you don’t have any soulmates,” Yuuko scolded, walking towards the doors that led to the ice rink.

“Yeah, but I have you instead.” Nishigori chased after her.

“Fortunately for you. But sometimes I wonder why I put up with you…”

Yuuri followed close behind, smiling at his friends’ easy banter.

The three teens stepped onto the ice, carefully avoiding the other people who were taking advantage of the public rink. There were a few adults skating slowly around the edge of the rink, holding their children’s hands to help keep their balance. A group of five or six teens, taking advantage of their own holiday, were chasing each other across the far side of the rink, laughing loudly.

There was one older skater that Yuuri recognized — Tanaka-san — who was practicing jumps at the other end of the rink. Yuuri had heard that he’d qualified for the senior Nationals and would be leaving for Kadoma early the next day, so he wasn't surprised that he'd be getting in a few more hours of practice before leaving. When Tanaka saw the three of them, he waved.

 “What do you think Victor does on his birthday?” Yuuko wondered aloud as they began doing warmup laps on the ice.

That was something that Yuuri had wondered about too, although it had never gone anywhere beyond innocent speculation. Did Victor have grand parties with lots of friends? Did he have small, quiet ones? Did he go out to dinner with friends or stay home and play with Makkachin? He said once that he liked shopping so maybe he’d do that? Every time Yuuri actually tried to imagine what the Victor would do, he found it very difficult to see the teen anywhere other than on the ice, with his signature gold skates on his feet. His brain just couldn’t reconcile the idea of Victor Nikiforov, the rising star in the figure skating world, with the image of an ordinary teenager. It seemed too, well, ordinary for him.

Yuuri had seen the Grand Prix Finals only two weeks before, eyes glued to the television in his living room, with Yuuko and Nishigori beside him. Victor had surprised everyone, like he always did, with a set of performances that earned him a silver medal, right behind Stephane Lambiel and just ahead of Takahashi Daisuke-san. He had dazzled the audience and cameras with a bright smile as he held up his well-earned medal. He looked like he was right at home up on that podium. But that was how Victor was — spectacular, enthralling, wonderful. He couldn’t be ordinary. _Yuuri_ was ordinary and he was nothing like Victor, who snatched silver and gold medals from previous World champions like it was as easy as breathing.

“Well, he never really talks about that to the press, does he?” Yuuri said, narrowly avoiding a little girl who had clearly never been on the ice before.

“Yeah,” Nishigori said, “I bet he just spends the whole day taking it easy, eating cake and opening gifts from friends and family and fans. Living the dream…”

“I wonder if he’ll share it with one of his soulmates.” Yuuko questioned, “I mean, given how famous he is, they must be together by now.”

“I dunno,” Yuuri said, frowning, “He’s never mentioned anything about meeting any of his soulmates before. He's said how many he has and what each of the soulmarks look like, but that's been about it...”

Yuuko spun around and began skating backwards so that she could face him, “You have the same mark as him, though, don’t you?”

Yuuri blushed and looked down at his wrist. Victor had never been quiet about his soulmarks once he’d received them, and so Yuuri was quick to notice when he saw a photo of a 17-year-old Victor waving at a camera with a new mark on his wrist that hadn’t been there before. But Yuuri also knew that marks alone didn’t signify whether someone was your soulmate. That would be too easy to fake. You’d have to bond with your soulmate right in front of you to know if it was them for sure.

“I’ve only ever spoken to one of my soulmates once,” Yuuri offered, “He said his name was Victor too, but there’s no way it was Victor _Nikiforov._ I mean, he understood Japanese. I’m pretty sure Victor doesn’t know any Japanese.”

Yuuko tilted her head, “Is that all you have to go off? What if he decided to learn it for fun?”

“But he was in Sendai for the NHK Trophy,” Nishigori piped up, “You’d think he’d speak a _little_ bit while he was there. But the most he said was _‘Konnichiwa’_ before his interviews, ‘ _Arigatou_ ’ afterwards…and that was it.”

“And didn’t he say in one of those interviews around that time that he knew all of his soulmates? If he was my soulmate, I’d definitely know if it was him, then.”

Yuuko sighed, “Fine then. But could you imagine if he was?”

“I’d die.” Yuuri deadpanned immediately.

Famous last words.

~ * ~

A few hours later, Yuuri found himself alone in his room, running his fingers through Vicchan’s fur. After he, Nishigori, and Yuuko had tired themselves out at the rink, they’d gone back to Yu-topia for a late lunch. Both Katsuki adults were tending to their guests, and Nico-in-Mari’s-body was nowhere to be found, but three bowls of tempura udon were waiting for the three hungry teens in the dining room, which they dug into happily. After two hours of watching DVR recordings of the Grand Prix Finals (and of chatting with Nico, who had returned to the inn halfway through Stephane’s free skate), Yuuko and Nishigori left, thanking Yuuri for a fun day. With nothing better to do, Yuuri had gone up to his room to relax with Vicchan. The day out had taken quite a bit out of him and he had eagerly flopped down onto his bed.  

Now, Yuuri looked down at his wrist, tracing the edge of the soul-mark with his thumb. Had it really been almost a month since he spoke with the boy on the other side? He’d never been confident enough to bond with anyone, even though his body was covered in soulmarks.

_“Once we were comfortable with switching, we got along pretty well...”_

Should he…?

He presses his fingers down lightly, trembling with nervousness, before closing his eyes.

_‘Hello?’_

There was no going back now. He just had to wait and see if his soulmate would respond. Yuuri had kept his promise to his soulmate about studying more English. He had already started learning English in school, but knowing that he could converse with his soulmate in English sparked something in him to power through his basic English textbooks with more fervor.

Still, he didn’t have much practice with actually speaking the language, and the words still stumbled awkwardly over his tongue whenever he tried. He was still nervous at the prospect of trying, and probably failing, to keep up with the excitable boy on the other side who seemed much more familiar with the foreign language.

Yuuri was beginning to have second thoughts, when a light voice cut through the silence in his mind.

_‘Hello! How’re you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a while! I almost though that you never wanted to speak to me again! I’m currently on my way to practice and, oh, it’s a nice surprise to hear from you!’_

Yuuri smiled at the excitement dripping from each word and felt some of his previous nervousness ebb away. Maybe he should be less worried about keeping up with his soulmate and be more worried about getting a word in at all.

 _‘I’m sorry for not bonding sooner,’_ Yuuri replied, ‘ _I- I’ve been busy.’_

_‘Oh! With what?’_

_‘School. Skating. Mostly skating.’_ Yuuri admitted. ‘ _I actually compete.’_

 _‘Wow,’_ If it was possible, the voice on the other end got more excited. ‘ _So do I! I’m actually headed to my home rink now!’_

_‘Really?’_

_‘Yeah! My coach is planning on working me to the bone today since he’s giving me the day off tomorrow. He’s a cranky old guy, and he shouts at me a lot, but stuff like that shows he actually cares. It’s my birthday tomorrow!’_

Oh wow, that was interesting. So Yuuri’s soulmate shared a birthday with Victor…

‘ _Oh, well I wish you a happy -’_

_‘No, don’t finish that sentence!’_

_‘Why? You wished me happy birthday on mine.’_

A disembodied laugh echoed in Yuuri’s head, _‘It’s bad luck to wish someone happy birthday before the day! You could curse me with a broken ankle or something!’_

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, _‘You are superstitious?’_

_‘Yes. And don’t laugh. I don’t want to risk it! My feet are actually worth quite a lot, you know!”_

Yuuri rolled his eyes, _‘Sure.’_

His soulmate laughed again. Yuuri decided that he liked that sound, the way it knocked around his head. It was light and honest and made him want to laugh too. He was glad that his soulmate was a cheerful person.

 _‘So what will you do for your birthday?’_ Yuuri asked, _‘When it’s no longer bad luck, I mean. Will you celebrate it with family and friends?_ ’

His soulmate is quiet for a second before his voice comes back, softer, _‘I don’t know.’_

He sounded sad, like a switch had been flipped on his mood. Yuuri wondered if he’d hurt his soulmate’s feelings somehow. But, before he could say anything else, his soulmate piped up again, all traces of sadness gone from his voice.

 _‘Oh! Haha, I just realized that we didn’t exchange names before!’_ His soulmate was saying.

 _‘That’s okay,’_ Yuuri assured the boy, but he was actually surprised with himself. To think that he could fall into conversation so easily as to forget to ask for his conversation partner’s name… ‘ _What’s your name?’_

For whatever reason, the boy didn’t respond right away. Vicchan took that moment to climb up on Yuuri’s chest and lick his face. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile as he let go of his mark and wrapped his arms around his dog.

“I’m making a new friend, Vicchan,” Yurri cooed, digging his fingers into his beloved pet’s fur, “But he’s only in my head, so you won’t be able to meet him.” Vicchan tilted his head, looking at his owner with innocent confusion and Yuuri chuckled. Of course his dog wouldn’t understand the concept of soulmates. He closed his eyes and reveled in the happy feeling that settled in his chest. What had he been afraid of before? This was easier than he thought!

_‘Sorry for going dark on you for a second! My coach, Yakov, was insisting that I listen to him for once. So, my name! Since you’re a skater, you’ve probably heard of me — I’m Victor Nikiforov!_

….

…

..

What?

Well, there goes that peaceful moment. _  
_ Yuuri could almost _feel_ his brain shut down in shock. Vicchan had gone back to licking his face, wondering why his owner had stopped petting him, but Yuuri barely felt it. He was too busy trying not to die.

Victor Nikiforov. Fifteen letters that chewed up and tossed Yuuri’s stomach around. This…this had to be a joke. His soulmate was messing with him.

If Yuuri was any other 15-year-old boy, he’d probably be ecstatic to find out that his idol was his soulmate. He’d probably jump for joy before taking the newfound connection to learn as much about him as he could. Maybe he’d run downstairs and tell his mother, and watch her eyes light up with surprise at the lucky coincidence.

But Yuuri wasn’t some other 15-year-old boy. He was Yuuri Katsuki, a shy Japanese boy who couldn’t handle being pushed too far and didn’t think much of himself. He was Yuuri Katsuki, who had never thought of his idol as nothing less than untouchable. Who was driven by the desire to meet him on the same ice, once he became worthy enough to do so. If he’d been worried about his soulmate being disappointed in him _before…_

The boy on the other end — who was most definitely _not_ Victor, because that would be crazy — spoke up again, but Yuuri didn’t want to hear another word. The idea that his inspiration was projecting himself into Yuuri’s head suddenly scared him. The dull warmth emanating from the soulmark on his wrist suddenly felt like it was searing. He slowly began breathing faster and faster, and his head began to hurt.

Yuuri couldn’t handle being pushed. So he did what he always did when he was pushed too far.

He ran.

He hadn’t meant to cut of the connection so quickly—he’d just panicked. Without even thinking, he’d scrambled off his bed, quickly apologizing to Vicchan who whined at the sudden movement, and dug out a half-empty box of patches from his desk drawer.

 _‘Hey’,_ Victor (not-Victor!) said, his disembodied voice breaking through the panic in Yuuri’s brain, _‘Are you there? What’s your name, then?’_

Yuuri couldn’t tell him. He just couldn’t. Because then Victor would know that his soulmate was a 15-year-old kid who couldn’t even make the top 5 at the Junior Nationals when he had been breaking Junior World records at the same age. How would he be able to take Yuuri seriously, if they finally _did_ meet on the ice as equal competitors in the future? _‘Sorry’,_ was all Yuuri said as a reply before he let the adhesive of the patch stop the connection with Victor.

As the bond between them broke, and the warmth in his wrist seeped away, Yuuri’s energy seemed to follow it. He dropped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Was he overreacting? Probably.

Was he being rude? Maybe.

Would Victor hate him now? Almost certainly.

But as Yuuri stared up at the poster of his idol, letting the bright blue eyes of his idol meet his, he could only think about one thing.

_‘I don’t know.’_

For the first time, Yuuri could imagine Victor off the ice. Spending his birthday surrounded by gifts, sweets, and fan-mail. Hugging Makkachin close as he flipped through magazines or watched television.

Alone.

It only made Yuuri feel worse. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, a little bit of angst to help plant the seeds of future character development. I hope I did a good job of keeping people in character. I had a bit of a difficult time figuring out exactly how I would portray young!Yuuri, since a lot of what we see of his personality in the show when he's 23 was probably years in the making, rather than just how he's always been. Although I'm sure his performance anxiety was always a thing, so I made him get 10th in his first Junior Nationals. I was tempted to have him get 7th, like Yuzuru Hanyu did in his first Junior Nationals in 2006, but I figured Yuuri would do a little bit worse because of his anxiety.  
> I didn't exactly want Yuuri and Victor to hit it off right away since, well, I figured that Yuuri would freak out if he knew exactly who he was talking to and that might put a few bumps in their relationship in the beginning. But don't worry! They'll be (more or less) on the road towards a proper friendship by the end of the next chapter. Promise!  
> Hope you all are liking the story so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...I had been planning on writing and uploading this chapter next week, given that I'd be free of the last of my assignments before Easter break. But after both Evgenia Medvedeva AND Yuzuru Hanyu, two of my favorite skaters, won the 2017 World Championships by breaking their own world records, I needed some way to celebrate.
> 
> Enjoy!

St. Petersburg was always such a sight to see around New Year’s. Even at 19, Victor couldn’t help but gaze around at the lights and festivities with a childish, wide-eyed wonderment.

It never ceased to make him feel right at home, walking through the snowy streets on his way to Dvortsovaya Square, surrounded by laughter and lanterns and lights streaming from every home. Excitement buzzed through the air, an almost tangible force that accompanied the warm buzz of vodka coursing through Victor’s veins.

It was just half an hour until the New Year and Victor couldn’t wait to see what it would have in store for him.

This was one of the few years where he wouldn’t be participating in the New Year’s ice show that was held in Dvortsovaya Square. But he didn’t mind the change as much as he thought he would. As much as he missed the ice at a time like this, missed the opportunity to write a love letter to his hometown with his skating, he had to admit that he also missed standing on the other side of the rink and just _relaxing_. He’d been so busy in the last few years that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to join what felt like the whole of St. Petersburg in proper celebrations.

Granted, he couldn’t get as drunk as he wanted on New Year’s Eve or Day, since the Russian Nationals were only a few days away and he needed to _not_ have a terrible hangover that would sabotage any last-minute practice time. But he made up for that by eating all the _pelmeni_ and pickled herring he wanted, arguing that a food coma was easier to recover from than a hangover.

Since he wasn’t skating, he had also been able to keep all of his soulmarks open and had spent quite a bit of the evening chatting with the soulmates who were in good enough spirits, in the last hours of the year, to chat with an 19-year-old boy inside their heads. Claire was with her family in America, planning a spectacular New Year’s party, and she had been in the middle of roasting a ham when Victor reached out to her. For as long as Victor had known her, this was how she spent _every_ New Year’s.

He wondered if he'd be woken up on New Year's Day, just like last year, to hear her ranting at him about having to juggle playing host and keeping the small children there from burning her house down. He hoped not.

Yelfim had been with his parents in Moscow, but was now on his way to St. Petersburg to visit Victor on New Year’s Day, which he had never done before but had wanted to do. Although Victor had felt a little guilty about encouraging his soulmate to leave his family early, the impending visit also made him feel a little giddy. His closest soulmate was currently on his way to share his company for the first time in two years; what _wasn't_ exciting about that!

Excitement, though, wasn’t just reserved for Victor and his soulmates. Not tonight.

“It’s just like when we were kids. Eh, Vitya?”

Oh! That was another special difference about this special occasion. Victor’s brother, Nikolai, had decided to travel all the way from London to spend the New Year back at home. It had been almost 5 years since Victor had seen the older Nikiforov properly, partially due to both of their busy schedules making it nearly impossible to find compatible free time. It hadn’t helped that, even when they had still been living in St. Petersburg together, they hadn’t had too much in common to bond over due to a very inconvenient four-year age gap.

However, while the age difference and geographical distance had weakened the bond between the two brothers, they had still done what they could to stay in contact by writing to each other when they had the spare time. Nikolai made the effort to watch as many of Victor’s competitions as he could and congratulated Victor whenever he medaled or won (which was a lovely incentive for Victor to _keep_ winning), and Victor did his best to keep track of Nikolai’s life of studying, adventuring with friends, and more studying. As infrequently as the letters came from both sides, both brothers cherished the sentiment that came with each one.

They only had each other, after all.

Nikolai had told Victor that he wouldn’t be able to make it for his 19th birthday, but it had been a wonderful surprise to hear that he would be joining him and Yakov for their New Year’s Eve dinner. It had been a bit nerve-wracking to see the new person his brother had become, as well as reconcile the outdated mental image Victor had of him with this near-stranger that had inevitably changed both physically and mentally. Initial conversation had been awkward too, with both of them trying to figure out where they stood in each other’s lives.

(“Ah, you’ve grown your hair out!”

“Yeah. How’re your studies going?”

“Fine, fine. I’m scheduled to finish my Master’s by the end of this year.”

“Still doing Economics?”

“Yes, but I decided to switch universities; I’m at UCL now.”

“Oh.”

“How’s your skating going?”

“Well, thanks. I got silver in the Grand Prix Finals last month.”

“Oh…congratulations.”

“Thank you.”)

But as they settled in for dinner around Yakov's small dining table, they managed to find some unexpected common ground. At first, the two of them found safety in reminiscing about their shared childhood. But as the salads were served and the vodka was poured, they quickly delved into the years they had spent apart. They eventually found that they had both spent time in different parts of the same countries at one point or another, leading to a comparison of experiences.

Of course, Victor’s skating had granted him more travel time than Nikolai, but Victor was happy to see that his brother hadn’t let his studies overshadow his adventurous nature and had taken holidays to distant places with friends in whatever free time they managed. Nikolai had even spent a month in Peru, where Victor had never been, and the two of them were soon laughing with (and at) each other as the plethora of crazy stories began to spill forth. It took a few hours, but the tension between them eventually thawed. Yakov even managed to crack a smile or two.

Victor was grateful that the spirit of travel was one thing they shared that had stood the test of time.

He also noticed, though, that there were far too many lulls in their conversation for his liking and Nikolai filled them by chatting with Yakov, leaving Victor to eat and listen to them discuss business and politics and all sorts of things that Victor only vaguely knew about and couldn’t care less about. He figured he should have expected that; Nikolai was more grown up than Victor, with his brain full of topics that would bore Victor to tears, while Victor’s mind was full of things that he knew his brother cared very little about outside of cheering him on.

The two of them were naturally at an impasse, in that regard; both of them _wanted_ to connect with the other, but just didn’t know how, given their vastly different paths in life. Even though Victor knew that blood was thicker than water, it still felt terrible to realize that he probably had better, more consistent relations with his soulmates than with his own brother.

Things shouldn’t be _that_ awkward, should they? This was the same Nikolai — the same _Kolya_ — who had basically taken what little inheritance they had, and worked two jobs, to take care of Victor in the years between when their parents had died and when Victor had started getting noticed by sponsors, private and corporate alike. The same Kolya who bought Makkachin for a 13-year-old Victor just before he went off to university in England, just so Victor wouldn’t feel completely lonely in his absence. The same Kolya who still called Victor _Viten’ka,_ even though Victor had told him to stop since it made him sound like a little kid and he wasn’t a little kid anymore, _dammit_!

Realizing that he was getting too lost in thought, Victor shook his head to forcefully bring himself back to the present. His long hair, which had been put into a long braid that snaked down his back, swung like a pendulum with each movement of his head.

No! He wouldn’t let his discomfort completely sour his mood. It was New Year’s! It wasn’t the time to reflect on past miseries and memories. It was time to focus on what he had now. And what he had now was a coach who cared for him underneath his icy demeanor, a dog that had stayed by his side for all these years, soulmates that actually cared about him, and a brother who finally came home to spend time with his only family as best as he could.

As the they finally reached Dvortsovaya Square, passing under a magnificent archway of lights, Victor’s smile only grew wider. The massive fir tree in the middle of the square and the blue lights covering the Winter Palace. The throngs of people filling the whole area, dancing and singing along with the singers belting out pop songs on the grand makeshift stage at one end of the stage. The massive televisions on either side of the stage that would be showing the President give his New Year speech in just a few minutes. The sheer size of the whole spectacle never failed to make the Victor’s jaw drop.

“I should really come home more often.” Nikolai said breathlessly beside him.

Victor chuckled, “Yeah, you should. I’m sure your professors wouldn’t mind if you put down your pen more than once a year.”

Nikolai took the joke in stride and patted Victor on the shoulder, “Oh Viten’ka, you know that’s not _all_ I do. You really shouldn’t mock my education; you may have dropped out of school to focus on your passion, but _I_ stayed in school to focus on _mine_.”

Ignoring the childish diminutive, Victor laughed again and looked up at his brother, “Youknow that Yakov hired me tutors!  _And_ I'm going to university starting this year. Besides, what else do you do in your free time...apart from get lost after falling asleep on the London Underground and ending up miles away from your flat with no charge in your phone?”

Nikolai frowned, “I think I’m going to regret telling you that story.”

“Yup! But back on topic…”

“Well, if you _must_ know, I joined the university’s rugby team and I find I actually quite like it.”

“Huh,” Victor raised his eyebrows, “So you _do_ have the smallest bit of athletic talent in your body. Who knew…”

  
This was apparently another thing that had stood the test of time — their penchant for banter. Something that Victor remembers his mother once saying they both got from her. Sure, it had caused a few too many fights when they were younger and prone to being pettier, but it had also caused a lot of laughter in the Nikiforov household when it was sorely needed.

He could see that Nikolai was going to respond to his little jab, but he was interrupted by the quieting of the music and the buzzing of static as the televisions switched to a live feed of President Putin. Everyone in the Square was quiet as he gave his usual speech, reflecting on the year gone by and welcoming whatever came in the New Year, but the noise returned as the final countdown began.

10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…

“C Novim Godom!”

And just like that, 2008 was rung in, with whoops and cheers and the national anthem. Victor tore his eyes from the display to hug Yakov, which the older man accepted without his usual stiffness, as well as Nikolai. The hug between the brothers was warm and filled with more love than Victor had expected. After the last notes of the national anthem became drowned out by roars of “C Novim Godom!” and the first booms of fireworks, Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden watch. It had been a last-minute purchase, since he hadn’t known until three days before that Nikolai would be in town, but he knew his brother preferred practical gifts to merely sentimental ones and so thought a new watch would be perfect.

“C Novim Godom, Kolya.”

Nikolai smiled at the gift he had been presented before he reached into his own coat and pulled out a thick book, handing it to Victor.

“C Novim Godom, _Viten’ka_.”

Victor stuck out his tongue.  

~ * ~

Three hours, and half a bottle of wine, later, Victor stumbled into his bedroom feeling _much_ too warm. Boots, gloves, scarf, overcoat, woolen sweater…a new layer came off and found itself in a heap on the floor as the teen approached his bed. Once he had stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, he fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

A few seconds later, the familiar weight that was Makkachin settled on his chest. Wheezing with both breathlessness and laughter, Victor lightly pushed her down to settle across his legs instead.

This had been a good start to the New Year, indeed.

Yakov had recommended that he rest for a few hours before preparing to attend the New Year’s Day parties he had been invited to in the evening, but Victor still felt too awake to enter the void of sleep just yet.

‘ _Happy New Year!’_ he called out to each of his soulmates one by one. It had been a few hours past for him, obviously, but he knew that some of them were still in the previous year. He briefly wondered what each of them were doing right in that very moment.

Victor’s good mood dampened a little as he stared at the soulmark on his wrist, though. How was his _Japanese_ soulmate spending the New Year? His fingers hovered over the mark in hesitation as he remembered the last time he’d spoken to the mysterious boy on the other side of the mark. It certainly hadn’t ended well.

Victor hadn’t had much time to react in the moment that his mark had gone cold, other than feel mildly surprised and offended, because Yakov had immediately demanded his attention again. But once practice had ended, and in the week afterwards, Victor had found himself staring at the mark on his wrist at random times, wondering what had gone wrong.

Victor had thought that, after having the courage to reach out after two years of silence, his soulmate would be more comfortable with bonding with him. It could have been the start of a wonderful friendship between the two of them. All of Victor’s soulmates were older than him; he had to admit that the prospect of having a younger soulmate, who he could help guide through life, sort of excited him. But maybe he had been too hasty to assume that the younger boy would feel the same. Maybe he had been too idealistic.

The mark was now devoid of cold, as it always was around this time of year, but Victor still hesitated to reach out when his soulmate probably didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But still…it was the New Year. He couldn’t _not_ reach out.

 _‘Happy New Year’_ , he said, barely grazing the mark. He glanced over at the clock on his wall — 3:16 AM, the time read — and wondered if he was bothering any morning festivities for the boy in Japan.

After a minute or two, the floodgates on the other side burst open.

_‘T- thank you for the well wishes. I’m sorry for not doing the same, that was rude. But I’m so, so sorry!’_

Victor frowned. This was...an interesting surprise. He’d thought that the week of silence had indicated that his soulmate hadn’t wanted to speak to him, and he’d given the boy his space. But the desperate tone in the boy’s voice and the quick pace at which he spoke seemed to indicate the opposite.

‘ _What are you sorry for? Blocking me?’_

 _‘Yes! I was so rude when I blocked you last week for no reason!  I panicked when I heard you were_ the Victor Nikiforov _and…’,_ The boy took a deep, shaky breath before just ending with, ‘ _Please don’t hate me.’_

_'You...thought I'd hate you?'_

_'Because you are...you know...you.'_

Victor suddenly felt bad. _That_ hadn’t really crossed his mind when he’d considered the reasons for his soulmate’s sudden disappearance. He wasn’t exactly oblivious to his celebrity status, but it had never occurred to him that his soulmate had lost his nerve because he was _intimidated_ by Victor. To be fair, the young boy hadn’t been there like his other soulmates, who had seen his rise to figure skating stardom, but he figured that the young boy would still be interested in knowing Victor the _person_ rather than be blinded by Victor the _celebrity_.

Now that he thought about it, he could see that the general skating world — and the majority of his fans, if the mail he got every week was anything to go by — were only interested in Victor as a skater, unable to separate the talent from the human being. He figured he could accept that, though. He loved acting. He still loved the spectacle. And, in a world where success equaled acceptance, he couldn’t begrudge them for thinking like that. But from his own soulmate…

It kind of hurt.

 _‘Hey, it’s okay, really,’_ Victor said, trying to calm his soulmate, _‘If you wanted to apologize so badly, why didn’t you call out to me?’_

There was a silence in the void between their minds and, for a second, Victor worried that he’d scared his soulmate away again. That worry was assuaged, however, when the boy finally responded, quieter than before.

_‘I…I thought that I had offended you. I thought you hated me and- and I didn’t want to bother you.’_

_‘You wouldn’t be bothering me. You know, I was actually worried that_ you _had hated_ me _.’_

There’s a pause. Then a confused chuckle.

_‘Why would you be worried about that? I mean, you barely know me. And you’re…’_

_‘Because you’re my soulmate,’_ Victor said immediately, ‘ _And that’s that.’_

_‘That’s that?’_

_'That's that.'_

The boy pauses again, before letting out a short laugh,  _'Wow, okay. You're my soulmate. Victor Nikiforov. Wow.'_ He was clearly trying to convince himself of this fact.

It didn't sound like it was working very well.

_‘Yes, I am. But don’t think I’m anything more than an ordinary teen who just happens to skate really well.’_

_‘Uh…huh…”_ The boy still didn’t sound convinced. So, Victor tried to explain.

 _‘You want to know what I did for New Year’s? I had an awkward dinner with my brother who I hadn’t seen in years, Coach Yakov, and Makkachin,’_ — the dog perked up at the sound of her name — _‘before we spent the next few hours dancing with strangers and getting as drunk as possible while listening to the latest trashy pop music. Completely ordinary, see?’_

That got a laugh from the boy, and Victor decided that he quite loved the sound. _‘That sounds like fun. But wait, aren’t the Russian National Championships in a day or two?’_

 _‘Ugh, don’t remind me,’_ Victor said, rolling his eyes, _‘That’s why_ I _was the only one who couldn’t drink a whole lot, while my brother and Yakov could ring in the New Year all nice and wasted.’_

_‘So are you…You are drunk right now?’_

Victor thought about it, _‘Maybe a little bit past tipsy.’_

The boy laughed again, _‘Wow.’_

 _‘Say,’_ Victor said, as soon as the realization struck him, _‘I still don’t know your name.’_

The laughter died down.

_‘I…I can’t.’_

Victor couldn’t help but let out a huff of frustration. And he kept his hand on his mark so that the boy could clearly hear it too. Was that an obnoxious thing to do? Maybe. But he had hoped that this conversation would indicate some _progress_ in their relationship!  

The boy quickly clarified, _‘It’s not like I don’t want to. Well, I_ don’t _want to say, but it’s not because I don’t trust you or don’t like you or anything. Promise! I just...You’ll probably find out who I am if I say and I don’t want you to know just yet. Not until I feel ready.’_

 _‘Oh,’_ this was interesting, _‘Are you well known too? Do I know you?’_

Victor could feel himself getting excited again as he mentally ran through all the Japanese junior skaters he could think of, but nobody came to mind. He honestly hadn’t paid that much attention to the juniors of _any_ country but his own since he’d left the division. Should he feel bad that he hadn't, especially after speaking to his soulmate the first time?

Eh. He never had the time before and hindsight was 20/20; there was no point in regretting it now.

 _‘No, no. I’m nobody,’_ the boy said, letting out a self-deprecating laugh, _‘Actually, thinking about it, I probably shouldn’t be worried about you finding me…’_

_‘Don’t say that! If you aimed for it, I can’t imagine anything less than you rising up in the ranks so we can meet. I’ll even bet we compete against each other sometime in the future. I’ll cheer that dream on.’_

A pause, _‘Just because I’m your soulmate?’_

 _'_ Especially _because you’re my soulmate. Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re a great skater!’_

_‘That…that sounds strange coming from you.’_

_‘It shouldn’t,’_ Victor said firmly, _‘So what should I call you?’_

There are a few seconds of his soulmate thinking it over.

_‘Call me...Shousei.’_

_‘Okay then. Shousei. Shousei.’_ Victor tested it, letting the alias roll around in his mouth. It certainly sounded nice. He wondered if it meant anything to the boy, or if it was a generic mix of syllables that had come to mind in that instant. He certainly didn’t know enough Japanese to know if that was a real name or not, but it would work for now.

_‘So, Shousei, how did you spend New Year’s?’_

_‘Oh,_ _it’s sort of a special day here. I spent it with my family. We ate a special dinner for New Year’s Eve called_ osechi ryori _and visited temples to make wishes and give offerings and other things. I also got some New Year’s money from my parents, which was cool.’_

Victor smiled to himself, _‘Sounds like New Year’s in Japan has less partying than here.’_

_‘Yeah, maybe. There is…what is the word…a- a superstition that how you spend your New Year is how you’ll spend the rest of the year. Most people try not to be too crazy.’_

_‘I guess not,’_ Victor shrugged, _‘I have heard the same thing here, but I guess we just prefer to be at the happiest we can be for the New Year.’_

_‘And you would say you are happy now?’_

_‘Now that I’m talking with you? Absolutely.’_

Shousei let out a small laugh, _‘I hope this means good things for our friendship in the coming year.’_

 _‘Same.’_ Victor responded.

And he absolutely meant it.

~ * ~

Victor only managed to get about 6 hours of sleep before some commotion outside his bedroom door woke him up. Victor groaned at the disturbance, which was most likely Nikolai getting up, and turned over. The movement stirred Makkachin from her position at the end of his bed and the poodle, noticing that her owner was awake, padded over his body to lick his face. Victor groaned again, giving up any chance of returning to sleep. When had he even _gone_ to sleep? He couldn’t remember. He must have dozed off while in the middle of talking to Shousei.

He frowned, squinting through his grogginess and light headache, and pulled his phone off his bedside table to check the time. 9:34 AM. That was…odd. Why was that odd?

Oh, New Year’s Day. Wasn’t Yelfim supposed to be on his way? And didn’t he say he would likely arrive in St. Petersburg around 8 AM?

Victor checked his call log. No missed calls.

Victor’s immediate reaction was to touch the leaf on the back of his right hand and check to see why the young man was late. But when he couldn’t even feel the familiar mental void where they conversed, he knew something was wrong.

Victor looked down at his right hand…

And dropped his phone. It clattered onto the ground, but he didn't even notice.

The soulmark was…gone. Not cold. Not faded. _Gone_!

Victor was wide awake now. All good feelings from the night before dissipated as his heart slowly sank into the depths of his belly. With a startled cry, Victor jumped out of bed and crossed the room to his closet. He pulled off his shirt and began frantically checking his other marks in the full-body mirror that hung on the back of the closet door.

Shousei — check.

Elena — check.

Abbas — check.

Claire — check.

Tobias — check.

But Yelfim was gone.

“No,” Victor murmured, slowly getting louder as his panic increased, “No, no, no, _no!_ ”

“Vitya, are you alright?!”

Victor turned from the closet to see Nikolai standing in the bedroom door, worry knitted across his face. Victor could only imagine what he looked like to his older brother right now; standing half naked in his room, frantically twisting and turning, running his hands over his body. Over his marks. Nikolai had been born without a single mark on his skin — born completely ordinary — and probably had no idea what was going on.

Victor raised his right hand.

“He’s gone! Fima’s gone!”

Nikolai may not have soulmarks himself, but he still knew exactly what that meant. His eyes widened as he stepped forward.

“Are you – are you _sure_?”

Victor nodded slowly.

He didn’t realize how much he was shaking until Nikolai reached out to steady the extended limb. After a second, he pulled Victor into a tight hug. This hug was unlike the comforting one they had shared hours before, fueled by alcohol and the adrenaline of the New Year. This hug was rigid and much more desperate; Victor clung to his older brother as if he was the only one who could keep Victor from collapsing to the floor. As if he was the only one who could keep the panic bottled up.

In the five minutes the two brothers stood there, Victor cried enough to soak through the shoulder of Nikolai’s shirt.

Because Yelfim was dead.

~ * ~

It wasn’t until a few hours later that Victor learned the full story of what had happened.

On the news.

“At about 2:43 this morning, a Nevsky Express train, running on the Moscow-St. Petersburg Railway and carrying 500 passengers, derailed near the town of Uglovka. The accident, so far, has left 25 dead and at least 30 injured, although the numbers are increasing as more people are being found within the wreckage. Primary investigations have revealed that a segment of the track had become disjointed as the high-speed train passed over it, causing four of the thirteen carriages to fall off the rails entirely. In light of this tragedy, the president of JSC Russian Railways, Vladimir Yakunin…”

Victor couldn’t listen anymore. He couldn’t look at the television anymore; not at the perfect-looking, unsmiling newscaster in the blue dress, nor at the images of the wreck — the twists of metal in which Victor knew Yelfim’s body lay — behind her. As he sat with Yakov and Nikolai in the living room, watching the news broadcast, he felt numb.

He had never lost a soulmate before and, for all of his travels, hadn’t met anyone who had. Or maybe some of them had, but had never spoken to him about it. He could definitely understand why, though; the shock of waking up to a missing soulmark, combined with the immediate grief of realizing that it meant a part of you was gone forever, was nothing to just trivially bring up.

While he had only met Yelfim in person twice, the young man’s good-natured demeanor had made him an ideal companion, and his absence was hitting Victor a lot harder than he thought it ever would. He guessed that that was the nature of losing a soulmate; knowing them like an acquaintance or friend, but grieving for them like they were so much more.   

Feeling antsy, Victor stood up from the couch and headed back to his room. Yakov and Nikolai didn’t try to stop him.

Reaching his bedroom, he started pacing back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He just didn’t know what to _do_! He wondered what Yelfim’s parents were thinking. They were probably watching to same news story, crying in each other’s arms down in Moscow as the same, unsmiling, uncaring, newscaster repeated the same, tragic information.

If only he hadn’t encouraged Yelfim to come visit him…

A whole life was snuffed out before its time, and it was partially his fault.

Yakov once told Victor that the death of a loved one changes people. That it makes them see the world in a new light. At the time, Victor had just nodded and continued with his life, not really processing what that had meant. He had always thought that Yakov had been talking about the death of his parents, even though it hadn’t exactly made sense to him, since Victor hadn’t gone through any drastic change; he hadn’t _seen_ anything more cynically or lost his personality along with them.

It was actually something he was quite proud of himself for — that he had come out of his tragedy without acting ‘damaged’ like so many thought he would. He had stayed the young, cheerful kid who loved winding up his coach, playing with his dog, and getting lost in his own imagination. He had stayed the same child who insisted on seeing the world in shades of greens and yellows and blues instead of a dark tinge of grey.

Wasn’t it time he grew up a little?

(Later, he would look back on this moment and chuckle at how melodramatic he had been, while still appreciating the symbolism of it all).

Barely even looking to see what he was doing, Victor stumbled over to his desk and pulled out a pair of scissors. His hair was still braided from the night before but, with deft fingers, Victor undid the whole thing, letting his long hair cascade over his shoulders for the last time. He closed his eyes, reached back to catch a large chunk of it, and took a deep breath.

This was it.

He felt the cold metal of the scissors slide across the outside of his fist once, twice, three times…and it was done.

Victor collapsed to his knees and gazed down at the strands of once-beautiful hair that now lay in a pitiful clump on his floorboards. Makkachin, noticing her owner’s distress, began pawing at Victor and licking his hand, as if that would cheer him up. He barely noticed her. It already felt odd, having the cold air directly against the back of his neck for the first time, and his subconscious faintly noted that at least the other skaters would now stop commenting on how feminine he looked.

But he could only focus on what he just lost, rather than what he had now.

(Funny, that, given that it was New Year’s).  

“Vitya, what on _earth_ are you doing?!”

Victor looked up from the long, silvery strands that had once been attached to the back of his head. From the pure, paleness of his skin which had once been marked. Nikolai was kneeling beside him with wide eyes, his shocked gaze flitting between the back of Victor’s head and the pair of scissors in his hand. Victor was suddenly struck with the urge to laugh, but he felt exhausted to do so. Any energy he possessed before had fallen away with the strands of hair. 

He smiled weakly, “I figured it was time for a haircut.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. There you go: a whole lot of backstory, characterization, and angst that none of you asked for. I do hope it was still an enjoyable read, though.
> 
> The awkwardness between Victor and Nikolai is based on observations of my own relationship with my brothers since I started university and Nikolai’s story of falling asleep on the Tube and getting lost with no phone charge is something that actually happened to me in my first term of uni. It’s probably why I don’t take the Tube as often as I used to, haha.
> 
> I had Yuuri keep his identity secret as part of him running away from Victor, still not wanting to let Victor know about his ‘failures’. Also, Victor may have accidentally planted the idea in his head that he only cared about Yuuri because they were soulmates so he also wants to prove himself before revealing himself. ‘Shousei’ is the on-reading (Chinese reading) for the kanji that make up the name ‘Katsuki’. But, hey, I kept my promise! They're getting along, now!
> 
> Yes, I did kill off one of Victor’s soulmates to explain him cutting his hair. But it was also to establish the beginnings of Victor’s more serious and mature side, which we only see glimpses of in the show. I based the train accident on a real accident that happened on the Moscow-St. Petersburg Railway in 2009. 
> 
> I didn’t feel completely comfortable using the real-life tragedy as part of the plot device, though, so I changed the date, time, and number of casualties and changed the cause of the derailment to what people initially thought had caused the 2009 accident – technical failures. Victor does compete in the Russian Nationals but, as you can imagine, he's still affected by grief and comes 5th.
> 
> All information about how New Year's is celebrated in Russia and Japan came from Google, so you know what to blame if I'm wrong somewhere.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this took forever to get out. I'd actually had a draft of this written months ago, but exams and moving kept me too busy to polish, edit, and post it. I'm properly on summer holidays now, though, so it shouldn't take too long to get the next chapter out.  
> We don’t see any programs from Yuuri or Victor but, for the 2007-8 season, I had Yuuri’s short program be Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, leaning mostly on the [Summer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Es9RgQGw3Gk) composition, and his short program be a mix of the Lord of the Rings OST, particularly [Amon Hen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0KyhRkgThc), [The Breaking of the Fellowship](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQ9NOV3KNpY), and [The Council of Elrond](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK7kmRNfi4s). Victor’s programs were Tschaikovsky’s [Waltz of the Flowers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxHkLdQy5f0) and Mozart’s [Don Giovanni, Overture](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jyjVCbTo5F0). I didn’t imagine what kind of choreography would go with these pieces; I just thought they sounded cool to skate to and fit with their personalities.

_'Hey, Shousei!’_

“AHH!”

Yuuri was jolted out of his thoughts as he stumbled. Even after three months, having a sudden second voice pop into his head every once in a while was still a bit jarring. He only managed to save himself from falling to the ice by digging in his toe pick and waving his arms frantically. As he regained his balance, he also realized that he had shouted out loud unintentionally. This thought was only confirmed as he looked around. Other skaters shot him confused looks as they passed him on the ice, going through their own practices, and he also saw a few heads from the side of the rink turn his way too, curious at the sudden commotion. Yuuri couldn’t help but shrink into himself as his face reddened. He hated embarrassing himself during competitions, around people he barely knew, and making a scene during a practice session in the middle of one felt almost as bad.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “Slipped.”

A taller boy with curly brown hair that Yuuri recognized as the Spaniard, Javier Raya, passed him, chuckling.

“Careful,” he said, slowing down a little, “Don’t want to twist and ankle or something before the competition’s even done.”

Yuuri heard the good humor in the older boy’s voice, but all he could do was nod in response. He was too embarrassed to do or say anything else.

_‘Shouseiiii~’_

Yuuri sighed at Victor’s playful whine. As he watched Javier head towards the far end of the rink, he lightly touched his soulmark and took off across the ice too.

He really should have worn a patch today.

Ever since he established a proper connection with Victor on New Years’ a little over three months earlier, he’d stopped wearing patches on his wrist, thinking it would seem rude to go back to shutting the teen out. But sometimes, as he was learning, it was probably for the best that he blocked the connection at important times. Victor was _much_ more eager to make a proper connection with him than he had ever expected and had turned into more of a presence in Yuuri’s daily life. Yuuri knew that Victor had other soulmates, but Victor insisted that he was the only one who was a skater and, thus, had more in common with him. While Yuuri was still a little daunted at the idea of talking to Victor, he had to admit that he had found it a bit easier to fall into conversation with the other skater, as long as they spent most of the time talking about Victor’s life and general shared interests. Not out of hiding his identity though; Victor had quickly assured Yuuri that he’d respect his wish to stay unknown and wouldn’t look him up. Yuuri just found it easier when he wasn’t comparing his life to the whirlwind of activity that was Victor’s own. This, unfortunately, was one aspect of their increased contact that also exhausted Yuuri because Victor seemed to be the type of person that _wanted_ to know everything and say everything.

Yuuri had to give the older boy his general schedule so that he wouldn’t end up talking Yuuri’s ear off while he was in the middle of class or wake him up in the middle of the night or something. However, he realized that he had forgotten to tell Victor that he’d still be competing, and thus, travelling, in the month of March. It was about 10 PM back home in Hasetsu, about the time when Yuuri would be getting ready for bed. But he was currently in the Netherlands. And it was past 3 PM.

_‘Uh, Victor! Hi. You – you scared me.’_

A soft laugh echoed through his mind.

_‘Sorry if I startled you. What are you up to?’_

_‘Practicing,’_ Yuuri said, skating around a younger skater doing a sit spin, _‘I’m, uh, competing. In the International Challenge Cup. I forgot to tell you.’_

 _‘Oh, really?’_ Victor’s voice suddenly had a more curious intonation. Yuuri could just imagine the teen visibly perking up, _‘I’ve never competed in that before!’_

 _You probably never_ had _to,_ Yuuri thought to himself, a little bitterly. He took off into a double loop and enjoyed the moment of weightlessness before landing back on his right foot with barely a thud. Victor always did so well in the major international competitions, he probably didn’t need to spend his time like Yuuri, trying to improve his TES at minor competitions in order to qualify for bigger ones.

 _‘The free skate is tomorrow,’_ he thought into the silence, _‘So I’m just practicing for as long as I can today.’_

_‘What position are you in?’_

_‘Third.’_

_‘Really? And you didn’t tell me?’_ Victor laughed, _‘That’s great!’_

Yuuri couldn’t help the blush that crept up his face again, _‘I don’t think you should get your hopes up. I could mess it all up tomorrow.’_

_‘Why do you think that?’_

_‘I tend to sabotage myself at the last minute when I’m doing well.’_

_‘It can’t be that bad,’_ Victor said kindly, _‘Is there any particular component that you just can’t get?’_

Yuuri almost stopped dead again at those words. Was Victor _Nikiforov_ trying to give him advice?

_‘No, no, no! That’s not it! I, uh, just get a little stressed.’_

He couldn’t exactly say that his stress was less to do with his actual performance and more to do with the million other things on his mind. As Yuuri skated over to the edge of the rink to retrieve his water bottle, it occurred to him that he still didn’t know why Victor had reached out to him in the first place.

 _‘So…what did you– I mean, why are you reaching out?’_ Yuuri asked, _‘I mean, you don’t_ need _a reason to talk to me but I was just –.’_

_‘I was just wondering what you were humming earlier.’_

Humming?

Oh, his program music. Speaking of stress…

The entire time he’d been warming up, he’d been humming his free skate music as a way to calm down. The problem was that, while he was here in the Hague, trying to further his skating career, his high school entrance exam results were most likely waiting for him back in Hasetsu. That was it. A white board in front of his school with the rest of his future written under his name, waiting for him to come home. He had only just begun to practice backwards crossovers when Victor had called out to him and he was supposed to be working on his edge control, but the entire time he had been warming up, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back that board.

Had he been subconsciously reaching out to Victor, without realizing it? How much had he heard?

Ugh, he really should have just worn a patch. Or some gloves.

_‘You were…listening to that?’_

_‘Oops, was I not supposed to?’_ Victor asked, _‘I thought you were calling out and…’_

 _‘No, no, it’s not a problem!’_ Yuuri said quickly, _‘I’m sorry! I hadn’t realized I was touching my mark! If I was distracting you-.’_

Victor chuckled again, _‘I’m not upset or anything. I’m actually just sitting in my apartment. I have nothing to do except read and watch TV, and only my dear Makkachin for company. A distraction like that is very welcome right now. It was a nice tune.’_

Yuuri knew Victor couldn’t see him, but he instinctively ducked his head in further embarrassment. _‘You don’t have to be nice. I wasn’t aware of what I was doing, but I know I can’t sing.’_

_‘What are you talking about? I enjoyed it very much. At least, what little of it I heard.’_

Yuuri tried to ignore how that comment made his heart race before his brain took in the rest of Victor’s statement. Wait. Sitting in his apartment? He did the quick time conversion in his head — it was about 9:30 in the morning in St. Petersburg. And it was a Friday. Victor had told him that he’d usually be at the gym around this time.

Yuuri frowned to himself, debating on whether or not to ask. On one hand, he was relieved that his absentminded humming wasn’t interrupting Victor’s training, and he was curious as to why the teen wasn’t following his regular routine. The World Championships were a week away and Yuuri figured that it was more important than ever that Victor stick to his training schedule. On the other hand, who was he to question what Victor did from day to day? If Victor wanted to change up his schedule a little, who was he to question that?

Eventually, he decided to just throw caution to the wind.

 _‘Um, Victor,’_ he thought, _‘It’s probably not my place to say but why are you- I mean, I thought you’d be training for Worlds next week. Unless it’s your day off or something…’_

 _‘Well,’_ Victor began sheepishly, _‘Funny story that. I may have injured my knee at practice yesterday so-_

“You _what_?!” Yuuri whispered in shock. His coach, Reiko Yamada-san, was standing nearby and looked up at his outburst. She glanced down at where he was holding his wrist and then back up at his face, frowning and mouthing the words ‘Get back out there’.

Yuuri nodded and pushed off the boards, still holding his wrist.

_‘Is it bad?’_

_‘I’m not exactly sure yet. I think I may have to withdraw from Worlds though. I don’t have a diagnosis yet but I think I may have sprained my knee. If I’m right, that will take me out for at least two weeks, even if it isn’t too serious.’_

Yuuri frowned, trying to imagine what Victor must be feeling at that moment. Sitting out for two weeks would definitely take him out of Worlds, likely having him be replaced by someone like Georgi Popovich or Sergei Dobrin, but Yuuri got the impression that Victor needed the _ice_ just as much as the competition, something that his injury would take away from him too. This, of course, wasn’t the teen’s first injury. Not by a long shot. But if Yuuri’s memory served correctly, this would certainly be the first one to take him out of a major competition.

How could Victor sound so casual? If it was Yuuri with the injured knee, even the possibility of being unable to do what he loved most would make him so restless!

 _‘What about you, though?’_ Victor asked in Yuuri’s silence, _‘Is this your last competition of the season? Is that why you’re more stressed about doing well?’_

Yuuri began skating around the edge of the rink as he thought.

 _‘Well, I’m thinking of going to the Triglav Trophy next month but, no, that’s not it.’_ Yuuri said a bit lamely, _‘I’ve just been…’_ Yuuri trailed off. What was he doing? Sure, they were actually _talking_ to each other, but that didn’t excuse the fact that Victor probably had better things to do than listen to a whiny fifteen-year-old. From what little he knew about Victor’s personal life, he was sure the older boy didn’t go to school like him, lessening the possibility of him understanding or relating to just how important his exam results were for him in terms of his future prospects beyond the skating world.

 _‘Been...what?’_ Victor pressed.

_‘It- it doesn’t matter.’_

_‘Is it bad?’_

_‘Not really. It’s not important.’_

_‘Come on,’_ Victor said, his voice taking on the faux-irritated tone that Yuuri found a little amusing, _‘How can we be friends if you won’t tell me stuff?’_

Friends, huh? Well, in a way, that’s what soulmates were meant to be, right?

_‘It’s nothing. I’ve just been really nervous about…other things.’_

Yuuri hesitated as he decided whether or not to elaborate. This was exactly why he hated talking about himself. And they were heading down that rabbit hole too quickly for his liking.

_‘My high school entrance exam results will be posted soon. And if I don’t do as well as I could-.’_

_‘Don’t assume you didn’t do well. I’m sure you did great.’_

_‘But you don’t know me.’_

Silence on Victor’s end. Wondering what Victor was thinking only made Yuuri panic.

_‘D-don’t get me wrong! I’d never actually set myself up for failure and I didn’t try for any super selective private schools. If my skating career ends up going nowhere, then I’d have wasted my family’s money and I don’t want them to pay for me to go to private school on top of that. But I just can’t help but worry that I messed something up and didn’t get into my top choices.’_

_‘Is that what you want?’_

_‘Of course not, but-.’_

_‘So why don’t you be positive and hope that that doesn’t happen instead of insisting that it will?’_

Yuuri was beginning to get irritated.

_‘It’s not that simple.’_

_‘Well,’_ Victor said, _‘That doesn’t mean it’s really complicated either.’_

 _‘Yeah_ , _’_ Yuuri thought angrily, regretting opening his thoughts to Victor in the first place, _‘That must be easy for_ you _to say.’_

Yuuri’s burst of anger quickly turned to horror, though, as he realized he was still gripping his wrist.

Victor had heard every word…and he had gone silent.

 _‘Oh no, oh no, oh no! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’_ Yuuri immediately tried to do damage control, _‘It just slipped out. I mean, I don’t actually think that- I didn’t mean-.’_

 _‘It’s okay,’_ Victor said, but Yuuri could hear a twinge of hurt in his voice, _‘I was just trying to help, but I touched a nerve, didn’t I?’_

Yuuri didn’t know what to do except say ‘ _I’m sorry’_ again. He’d been skating furiously around the rink, spurred on by his frustration with Victor, but he slowed down as guilt filled him. Why had he lashed out like that?

 _‘It’s all right. Really.’_ Victor tried to assure him, _‘You have a point, anyway. I sometimes say things easily without thinking. I pushed too hard.’_

_‘I still shouldn’t have said that.’_

Victor clearly wasn't having that, though, _‘I’ve definitely heard worse. It comes with my minor foot-in-mouth syndrome. Really, it’s fine.’_

An awkward silence stretched between them for a few seconds before Yuuri remembered the origin of their conversation.

_’Amon Hen.’_

_‘Sorry?’_

_‘What I was humming before. You wanted to know, right? It’s from the film, The Lord of the Rings. The first one. Have you seen it?’_

_‘Yeah, I’ve seen it. The story was quite interesting, but I’m afraid I didn’t pay too much attention to the background music.’_

_‘It’s quite good. My general theme was ‘Reflection’ this season so the soundtrack fit for the somber tone I was going for.’_

_‘I’ll be sure to check it out, then.’_ Victor assured him.

More awkward silence followed. It was just about time for the skaters to leave the ice anyway, so Yuuri tried to ignore the lingering guilt in his chest by going through the motions of taking a final swig of water, putting on his skate guards, and heading towards the changing room.

 _‘Shousei,’_ Victor spoke up again as Yuuri pulled his running shoes out of his temporary locker, _‘I’m about to start applying to universities here. I’m thinking of studying sociology and…while Russian schools may be different from Japanese ones, I might soon understand how you feel.’_

 _‘Oh,’_ Yuuri had to admit that he never considered that. Wow, he _had_ been too hard on Victor a few minutes before, hadn’t he?

_‘And…good luck tomorrow.’_

_‘Thanks.’_

As Yuuri picked up his bag and began walking out of the rink, towards his hotel and the possibility of a nice lunch, Javier Raya caught up with him.

“Hey, you looked a little frustrated out on the rink,” he said, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Yuuri said, with a sigh. His anger at Victor must have been written all over his face without him realizing it, “I was just thinking.”

“Okay, well, some of us were thinking of going out to lunch together.” He pointed over his shoulder to a group of boys that Yuuri had passed, waiting just inside the doors of the locker room, “Wanna come along?”

It was tempting, but Yuuri wasn’t really in the mood to surround himself with a ton of people at the moment.

“Ah, no thanks. I want to head back to the hotel I’m staying at.”

Javier shrugged, “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Good luck to the both of us, eh?”

Yuuri nodded and watched Javier head back towards the group before he continued walking out the main doors. Yamada-san was waiting for him just outside.

“What was that?’ she asked, pointing back at the boys.

“They invited me to lunch,” Yuuri said simply, “I didn’t feel like it.”

She frowned, looked back at the group of boys talking, then looked down at Yuuri’s wrist, which was now mostly covered by the sleeves of his jacket.

“I understand that your soulmate is important to you,” she said, beginning to walk towards the main road and motioning for him to follow her, “But I think you need to spend more time out here in the real world, rather than staying stuck inside your head all the time.”

~ * ~

A week later, Yuuri found himself running home after a long day of practice. After he’d brought home a bronze medal from the International Challenge Cup and had gotten into his second choice of high school, he’d ridden on the joy of both by pouring everything he had into training, both on-ice and off-ice. Seeing how much he had wanted to improve, Minako-sensei had even given him the key to her ballet studio so that he could practice when she wasn’t there, albeit after promising that she’d kill him herself if he damaged anything or injured himself in her absence. Now, it was Saturday and, in a moment of confidence, he’d assured Yamada-san that he wouldn’t leave Ice Castle Hasetsu until he’d landed four clean triple Lutzes. It had taken much longer than he’d predicted.

He was missing the beginning of the Worlds free skate!

When Yuuri finally arrived back at the onsen, his mother took one look at the sweat beading on his face and the brightness in his eyes, and smiled.

“The television is already on in the common room,” she said, carrying a stack of towels toward the baths.

“Thanks, kaa-san,” Yuuri called after her. He quickly pulled off his running shoes, placing them beside Mari’s white ones, and headed into the common area that held the largest television in the onsen.

In Hasetsu, the most popular sport to both play and watch had always been baseball. Figure skating had never been as popular, only gaining a little more attention in the area about five years before when skaters like Tanaka and Mariko earned their places on the international circuit, and even then, not many people followed the skating season religiously. However, everyone with a minor interest in skating understood the importance of the World Championships so, while the common room wasn’t packed, Yuuri found that he had to weave between both tables and some patrons who were showing their interest in the event. There were bottles of sake and soda, as well as snacks like _dango,_ dried fish strips, and rice crackers, resting on the table closest to the television so Yuuri positioned himself in front of it.

Although the free skate had already begun, Yuuri didn’t think he had missed anything _too_ important. The French skater, Yannick Ponsero, was halfway through his program so Yuuri was sure that he’d only missed the first handful of skaters while he was still practicing at Ice Castle. Normally, Yuuri would only care if he missed Victor’s skate, so he would usually wait until it was time for the final group to take to the ice. However, Georgi Popovich was going 10th and Yuuri was interested in seeing how Victor’s rinkmate and replacement would hold up. Yuuri knew that, in terms of the skaters under Coach Yakov Feltsman, Georgi was the second best. If Victor wasn’t in the picture, and if Georgi was more consistent, Georgi could easily be Coach Yakov’s star. Not the best Russian skater overall, but definitely a star. Now it was Worlds. Victor was out of the picture with a sprained MCL. And Yuuri was curious to see how the second-place man would shine in his absence.

But first…

_’Victor?’_

Yuuri couldn’t ignore how he had to take a deep breath before calling out his soulmate’s name. He also realized that this was the first time in a long while that he was reaching out to Victor and not the other way around. This thought shouldn’t make him nervous — they’d been getting to know each other for months now —but he couldn’t help it. Even though there were moments of it falling apart, he still couldn’t get the image of _Victor Nikiforov_ out of his head when he looked at his mark and it somehow felt _wrong_ that someone as talented, famous, and respected as Victor wanted to be friends with him, an ordinary kid from Japan who happened to like skating.

And he didn’t know if he’d ever get used to it.

Victor, of course, responded cheerfully, _‘Hi, Shousei! Are you watching the free skate?’_

_‘Yeah. Are you? Oh, and, how are you?’_

_‘I am, and my knee’s been feeling worse today, almost like it’s gloating about keeping me from Gothenburg,’_ Victor laughed, _‘It’s only been a week and I already feel antsy, can you believe it?! I had to promise Yakov that I wouldn’t leave the apartment when he handed over my crutches, but I heard that he told the other skaters at Yubileyny to bar me from the rink if I tried to practice within the next three weeks!’_

Yuuri joined in his mirth, _‘I would be antsy, if I were you too. Especially today, watching a competition I’d trained so hard for. Do you think Georgi will do well?’_

 _‘It depends,’_ Victor said _, ‘He’s going early today after coming 12 th in the short program, so he may feel a little frustrated with himself over that. But he could easily just let the determination to do better fuel his performance.’_

Yuuri grabbed a rice cracker from the table behind him and chewed off a piece as he watched Ponsero receive his score — 117.60. Which gave him a 182.06 as a total score. Yuuri’s highest total score so far was just barely in the 140s. It had been enough to earn him the bronze medal at the International Challenge Cup, but it was still a far cry from the kind of scores he needed to compete with the best of the best. To compete against the likes of Victor. He had a lot of work to do.

 _‘Are there any skaters that you’re cheering on?’_ Victor asked in Yuuri’s silence.

_‘I don’t know. What about you? Who do you cheer for when you’re not skating?’_

Victor let out a small huff, _‘I asked you first, didn’t I? Don’t dodge the question.’_

Yuuri suddenly got the mental image of Victor’s annoyed expression, brought about only by his tone of voice, and rolled his eyes.

 _‘Well…it would be wrong to not support my own countrymen, wouldn’t it?’_ Yuuri said, which earned him a short laugh from Victor, _‘But I guess, other than them, I think Stephane Lambiel has a cool free program that I’d like to see be perfected.’_

 _‘Hmm, I think so too. I like his expressiveness. I’m personally rooting for Johnny Weir for the same reason.’_ Victor let some humor bleed into his voice, _‘I think Chris Giacometti would be a little annoyed if I cheered on his biggest rival.’_

 _‘Christophe Giacometti?’_ Yuuri had seen the two of them together a few times at past competitions, but he didn’t think they were any closer than just being friendly rivals, _‘Are you friends?’_

 _‘Yeah, I guess you could say that.’_ Victor responded, after a moment of silence, _‘We met last year at Euros and really only see each other during competitions, but we get along well enough to hang out outside of the rink when we do meet up.’_

 _‘Oh,’_ was all Yuuri could say in response. He’d never met Chris personally, but from what he’d seen, the boy had a similar carefree, fun personality that he could imagine Victor gelling with easily.

As the Italian skater, Karel Zelenka, took his place on the ice beneath the cheering crowd, Yuuri reached for another rice cracker.

~ * ~

Almost 10 minutes later, Georgi Popovich finally stepped out onto the ice. His costume was immediately eye catching; a top that had dark purple around the collar and shoulders, fanning out and bleeding into a black and gold-scratched bottom half with gold sleeves. The gold certainly made it difficult to _not_ look at him as he moved, but it wasn’t so bright as to look garish. As he made his way to the center of the rink, he waved and smiled hugely at the audience. The camera switched to one that closed in on his face and Yuuri could clearly see the confidence in his eyes.

_‘He’s nervous.’_

_‘Huh?’_ Yuuri looked at the young man move into his starting pose. Nothing really stood out to him, _‘How can you tell?’_

_‘He’s biting his lip. He only does that when he’s unsure about what he’s doing or going to do.’_

That was…oddly specific. Georgi, as he got into position, had indeed bitten his lip, but it looked more like a concentration thing than a nerves thing to Yuuri. Victor paid attention to stuff like that? Based on interviews with him and the skaters around him, Victor seemed to be the type of skater that put his whole attention into himself and his skating and, although he had no problem being kind to his fans and getting along with other skaters around him, he seemed to pay little attention to those he had no care for. Maybe Victor _was_ different than his public persona implied, even if it seemed like he was more honest about himself than others in front of the camera.

_‘You noticed something like that?’_

Yuuri must have sounded too incredulous because Victor took a second to respond, although his tone didn’t change, _‘Is that surprising? I’ve been his rinkmate long enough to notice his habits.’_

 _‘Right.’_ Yuuri could tell that he was close to offending Victor, if he hadn’t already, so he just decided to turn back to Georgi. _‘_ _Nervous, huh?'_

Sure enough, Yuuri had to wince as Georgi moved into his first jump, the triple Axel and, failing to get enough height, was forced to place his hand down to steady himself upon landing. The young man continued on, a little out of time with the music, but visibly shook his head as he tried to regain his composure. Thankfully though, his mistake in the beginning didn’t overwhelm him for too long and, as the program really took off, Yuuri could see Georgi begin to fall into the comfort of a program he really seemed to enjoy

Georgi was skating to music that was a blend of Shostakovich’s 'Waltz No. 2' and Khachaturian’s 'Masquerade Waltz'. It was a tricky arrangement to get right in a way that sounded elegant and powerful, while not overshadowing the 19-year-old on the ice, but Yuuri had to admit that Georgi managed to make it work here. His costume, which seemed a little bold when he was stationary, only exuded strength as he danced and turned to the music. Every landed jump ended with outstretched arms that reminded Yuuri of the ‘are you not entertained?’ pose from the film Gladiator, daring the audience to not applaud him. He wasn’t perfect by far — he fell on the last jump of his triple loop – triple toe loop combination, and Yuuri could see a shakiness in his step sequence — but Yuuri still had to admire his determination and overall style. When he landed the only quad toe in his program, Victor let out a cheer through the bond that startled Yuuri.

_‘You don’t know how long he’s come to me, crying that he could never consistently land that in practices. I’m glad he could do it here, though, where it counted.’_

Soon after that, the last notes of the waltz ended and Georgi bowed. As he raised his head, Yuuri saw the large smile on his face that seemed more genuine than the one he had flashed the audience as he took to the ice five minutes before. Yuuri could only imagine what was going through the 19-year-old’s head. How must that have felt, to fight through the nerves and still be able to speak to the audience? When would _he_ be able to show the same kind of relief after a performance? Maybe it was a maturity thing.

Georgi’s scores came up — 132.48. Total score, 199.32.

 _‘Ahh, so close to breaking 200!’_ Victor said, _‘I think this is the closest he’s come.’_

  _‘Wow. Good for him then.’_

“That was Victor Nikiforov’s replacement, wasn’t it?”

It took Yuuri a second to realize that someone was talking to him. He turned to see one of his father’s friends, Sato-san, sitting cross-legged to Yuuri’s right, waiting for his response.

“Yeah. Georgi Popovich.”

“Are you a fan of him too?”

“Not so much. But I do like his skating.”

“Same here,” Sato-san said, nodding, “He has potential, and with the older skaters retiring soon, he’ll have a chance to rise to the top. Him and Nikiforov.”

Well that was something Yuuri hadn’t given too much thought to. “Retiring soon?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear? Jeffrey Buttle has already mentioned considering retirement this year or next year. And Lambiel and Lysacek have said they would consider retiring after the Olympic season. Older skaters tend to retire after the Olympic season in general too, so we may hear of a few more retirement decisions closer to the Olympics, even if we don’t hear about them now.”

_Huh._

Yuuri, admittedly, had been too focused on his own season to pay too much attention to stray pieces of news from the senior division. But as he continued to watch the competition, he couldn’t help but think over the implications of Victor rising in the absence of the skaters that had ruled in the past few years. There was no question that Victor would rise to the top, closely followed by skaters like Georgi and Christophe Giacometti. It was also a bit of relief for Yuuri to think that, when he finally moved up to the senior division himself, there would be fewer veterans to act as obstacles in his own personal journey.

The free programs continued, one after the other. Voronov. Berntsson. Davydov. Van der Perren. Each skater passed by in a flurry of jumps and spirals. Patrick Chan, who skated to the Four Seasons like Yuuri, and Takahiko Kozuka-san, performed with a grace and level of edge control that Yuuri still had to master, in spite of their mistakes. Yuuri knew that Kozuka-san had gained his quality of skating from having practiced compulsory figures from a young age. Yuuri himself had only started incorporating figures into his own practices after Nationals, but he hoped it would eventually help improve his own skating like it did for Kozuka-san.

Victor hadn’t stayed quiet during this time either, taking to adding his own little bits of commentary and jokes that made Yuuri laugh internally. At one point, Yuuri had to ask Victor if was actually paying attention to what was going on onscreen, or if he was just enjoying the sound of his own voice, which only made the older boy laugh and did nothing to quiet him. When Johnny Weir began skating, Victor only became more excited. As he complimented Johnny’s costume and cheered on every successful jump, Yuuri couldn’t help but smile.

_‘You really admire him, don't you?’_

_‘Yes, I do. Did you know that I based my free skate costume from last season on his?’_ Victor supplied as Johnny raised his arms, marking the second half of his program.

That made a _ton_ of sense. Yuuri couldn’t believe he didn’t notice it before and had to laugh at himself for missing it. It was kind of funny, also, to hear Victor act just like any old fan. The logical part of his brain reminded him that practically every skater had someone they admired and aspired to be like, but it just somehow never occurred to him that Victor would share that completely ordinary trait too.

It was a minute later, when Johnny was wrapping up his program, that Victor said something that gave Yuuri some pause.

_‘I hope that I express that much emotion when I skate.’_

…

_What?_

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear that little statement. It had come through so quietly, and was laced with so much doubt, that he thought he had misheard it at first. It felt too private, too vulnerable, to have been intentional. Yuuri felt his face heat up as he looked down at his soulmark, not touching it. He had _never_ heard Victor sound like that before, since the boy had always kept up a light, happy-go-lucky attitude in public. Was _this_ what he really thought when he was alone in his flat or alone on the ice? What did he think his plethora of fans liked him for, if not for his ability to beautifully interpret the music he chose each season?

 _Don’t worry, Victor,_ he thought to himself as Weir stepped off the ice to great applause, _You do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri are talking more, and Yuuri’s god-like image of Victor is cracking! I’m not particularly great with dialogue, and I have never been a 15 or 19-year-old boy, so apologies if their behavior and interactions seemed a little unnatural or out of character. I also tried to add a bit more of their personality in this chapter. 
> 
> Yuuri’s FS program (and his Gladiator reference) was mainly me liking the LoTR OST and making Yuuri a bit of a movie fan, since it didn’t seem realistic for him to have no hobbies outside of skating. And Victor is a Weir fan because I thought it would be fun for the similarities spotted between the two by YoI fans to be entirely intentional. Plus, Johnny Weir (in real life) is a Russophile and likes Yuri on Ice so it evens out. Victor is quite the chatterbox in this chapter, which may be a little out of character, I don’t know. I just think he’d do more of the talking in his and Yuuri’s chats and maybe I went a little overboard.
> 
> Once again, for the competitions mentioned, I tried to keep all the times, competitors, and final positions the same as in real life. The only changes I made were to have Russia earn two spots for the 2008 Worlds (because, unlike Evgeni Plushenko, Victor wouldn't have skipped the 2007 Worlds so Russia wouldn’t have done as poorly), and putting Georgi 11th overall in the place of the American skater, Jeremy Abbott, in the 2008 World Championships, which was just to accommodate the addition of the extra Russian skater while still staying consistent with the real-life result of Russia ‘keeping’ their 2 spots for the 2009 Worlds (and Jeremy was sacrificed because the US already had their 3 spots with Johnny Weir and Stephen Carriere). Georgi's costume, as I described it, is a mix of Jeremy Abbott and Sergei Davydov’s free skate costumes. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! This is an off-season chapter, but I tried not to make it too boring.
> 
> Enjoy!

“How’s your knee?”

Victor looked over his cup of coffee to stare at his rinkmate, Andrei. They had been sitting in Na Parakh for about 10 minutes and, honestly, he was surprised that Andrei hadn’t mentioned his injury sooner.

Victor had told Shousei, during Worlds, that Yakov had barred him from stepping a single foot in Yubileyny Sports Palace until he was well enough to start physical therapy, and he certainly hadn’t been lying about it. But he had definitely stopped seeing the humor in such a drastic move. Victor wasn’t quite done with his obligatory three weeks of rest, but his immobility was really wearing him down. His tutors were certainly happy that they could keep him studying for longer than usual due to the injury-induced opening in his daily schedule. He’d also had the time to finally dust off, and make a dent in, the book that Nikolai had given him as a New Year’s gift. But he was tired of seeing the same walls every day. He wanted to _move_! He wanted to _skate_! Even today, as he sat across from Andrei, sipping a steaming cup of coffee while they waited for their meals, he couldn’t ignore the brace he was wearing under his jeans.

Victor wasn’t the type to just sit around on a _good_ day, but being stuck in his apartment with only Makkachin for company was being more of a bother than he expected.

Normally at this time, he’d be at Lilia’s ballet studio, probably getting yelled at. Instead, he was finding himself sitting across from Andrei in Na Parakh café, waiting for his lunch.  Andrei, who was only a few years older than Victor himself, wasn’t Victor’s closest friend in St. Petersburg, but he was the first friend to respond when Victor just wanted to get out and hang out with someone at 3PM on a dreary Thursday.

 “It could be healing faster,” Victor admitted with a small smile.

“Mmmm, I’m sure,” Andrei replied, although his tone held more humor than sympathy, “If only you’d let it heal…”

Victor groaned as he thought back to two days prior, when he had boldly walked into the rink, skating gear in tow. He’d woken up with less pain than usual and had foolishly — well, in hindsight, _foolishly_ — thought that he was ready to at least try and get his muscles working again. But the look on Yakov’s face when he emerged from his office…

“I only snuck in _once_ ,” Victor protested as Andrei let out a laugh, “My knee wasn’t hurting that badly and I thought a little warmup couldn’t hurt. I wasn’t going to try anything, I swear.”

“Tell that to Yakov. I swear, I’ve never seen him get that red before.”

“I have,” Victor said, waving his hand dismissively, “And I did tell him. That’s what made him go so red.”

“I remember you smiling and saying ‘Oh, hi Yakov, I’m just doing a little warming up.’” Andrei’s smile grew, “I know he’s probably used to your antics, but you seriously don’t make things any easier for him. Has anyone told you that you need to think before you speak?”

Victor immediately thought back to when Shousei had snapped at him for his insensitivity only two weeks before, “Well I’ve certainly been…reminded of that recently.”

Andrei rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own coffee, “You only have a week left before you start physio, right? And it’s the beginning of the off-season. What’s the hurry?”

Victor didn’t answer. Andrei had experienced a few injuries in his own career so he already knew the frustration of not being able to follow the routine he’d followed for years, the feeling of being forcefully grounded when all he wanted to do was fly.

There was no real _hurry._ But patience wasn’t exactly Victor’s strong suit.

A waitress came over and brought them their meals, giving Victor more time to not answer Andrei’s question. Instead, he turned his attention to the young waitress and thanked her as she placed a plate of steamed chicken dumplings in front of him. Andrei did the same as she gave him a salmon and broccoli puree dish and, as she walked away, Victor focused his gaze on the crescent moon-shaped soulmark on Andrei’s neck.

Andrei pursed his lips in Victor’s silence, “I know that it’s still killing you that you couldn’t go to Worlds last week.”

Victor popped a dumpling into his mouth as he thought about how to respond, and found that he quite liked the taste. He’d never eaten here before, but maybe he should come here more often. It was close enough to Yubileyny Sports Palace that he could stop in after practice, “I’ve never missed a competition before. I’ve been down before. But this is the first time I’ve been down _and_ out. I was really looking forward to trying the quad Lutz I’ve been practicing.”

“You mean the quad Lutz that Yakov keeps telling you not to incorporate until you’ve landed it in practice more than four out of ten times?” Victor glared at him and Andrei put his hands up, chuckling, “Well, there’s always next year.”

“You’re in too good a mood today.” Victor said, but he dropped the glare, “You didn’t go to Worlds either.”

“I know!” Andrei said, sighing dramatically, “And after coming second in Nationals too! But the Federation made its choice. And they chose you and Voronov.”

“I really wanted to surprise people. Just like when people saw my hair at Nationals.”

Andrei’s eyes flicked to the ends of Victor’s hair and Victor could immediately guess what he was thinking.

_Why?_

Victor hadn’t told anyone in his daily life about Yelfim. The only people who knew were Nikolai, Yakov, and Claire, who was the only soulmate Victor trusted enough to confide in. Of course, there had been questions. They had come from his rinkmates when he turned up to practice two days later with a strained smile and hair that was several inches shorter than before. They had come from the press, when he couldn’t fight through the guilt and grief and barely managed to land in 5th at the Russian Nationals. But Victor had waved them all off with a smile and the excuse of ‘surprising people’. During Nationals and the European Championships, Victor had continued to place a patch over his right hand so no eagle-eyed interviewers or fans would notice that anything was wrong, but he _hated_ that he knew he would peel off the patch afterwards to find a completely bare patch of skin. A completely boring right hand. He had gone down to visit Yelfim’s parents in Moscow for the funeral and there were some nights when he still couldn’t get their exhausted, hollow expressions out of his head.

Andrei stabbed at his salmon with his fork, staring at Victor for a second, “You know what _I_ see from this whole thing?”

“What?”

“You need to relax more. This is the longest an injury has taken you off the ice but look at you -  you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re still moping over your lost opportunity. You’ve already tried to come back to training. If this injury had been more serious, I have no doubt you’d go completely crazy.”

 “You think I should do something else?”

“Something that’ll get your mind off things. Travel. Or get a hobby. Or a girlfriend.”

Victor laughed, “I haven’t even looked at a girl that way in years.”

“Exactly my point. You’ve got the skating bug lodged too far into your brain,” Andrei paused as something else occurred to him, “Either that, or you’re gay.”

“Who knows?” Victor shrugged, “Probably.”

Andrei raised his eyebrows but didn’t press further. He turned back to his lunch, “Still. Maybe you should consider going somewhere to unwind this summer instead of staying here. You’re friends with Giacometti, right? Once you’re healed, you could go visit him.”

That…wasn’t a bad idea. Even if he couldn’t convince Yakov that it was a good idea to let him go in the next few weeks, he could still go later, before the season started again. He probably needed the change in scenery anyway, and he was sure that Christophe wouldn’t mind him as a training buddy for a week or two.

Victor still smirked, “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Nah.” Andrei said, “Just looking out for you. This is the most…mopey…I’ve ever seen you in the few years I’ve known you, on or off the ice, and it’s kind of odd to see.”

“Oh, well that’s —.”

“I also don’t want to see Yakov kill you with his bare hands the next time you decide you can’t handle a little boredom.”

“Hey!”

~ * ~

It was only another week before Victor found himself back in Na Parakh, although he grateful that this particular decision was less of a product of him staying still and more about him finally moving forward again. Even if he couldn’t skate yet, he could still prepare for the next season. As he pored over the short list of songs with a pencil in hand, he felt like he could finally think beyond his current standstill.

 “What are you doing?”

Victor looked up to see Georgi standing over him. The other 19-year-old was wearing a pair of grey track pants and a black top. He looked a little sweaty, probably having just come off the ice from his own practice time.

“Oh, hey. I’m trying to pick music for my short program for next season. I’ve narrowed it down to about four pieces, but I don’t know which one would be best for the tone I’m going for.”

Georgi dropped into the seat across from Victor and squinted at the list on the table, trying to read upside down, “Isn’t it a little early to start choosing music _now_?”

“Maybe, but I’ve got nothing else to do,” Victor shrugged, “I thought maybe I could get this out of the way so, no matter how long recovery takes, I’ll be ready to go once I’m allowed back on the ice.”

“Oh, so what are you going for?”

  
“Something…different. Something bold, but not too much. Something that will be memorable for being unique.” Victor looked down at the list again and tapped his finger against his lower lip, “I don’t know. I picked E.S. Posthumous as a group because they’ve produced the kind of music that I’m looking for — right on the line between epic and classical — but I can’t decide.”

Georgi points to the first song on the list, “What about _Raptamei_? I’ve heard that one before. It has some pretty unique instrumentals.”

“But it’s a bit slow. I’m thinking of something with a little more…power.”

“Well, I hope you choose something good. And I hope your leg heals up soon; it won’t be fun if I beat you when you’re not at your best.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Victor smiled, “I could probably beat you as I am now.”

“Wanna bet?”

Both boys held their equally determined gazes before laughing, breaking the slight tension in the air. There were no hard feelings between them — hadn’t been for years. Georgi pulled his water bottle out of his bag and took a large swig, leaning back against the back of his chair in a relaxed position.

“What about you?” Victor asked, breaking the short silence, “When are you going to decide?”

Georgi shrugged, “I don’t know. Yakov says I should just work on sharpening my skills for now. He’s disappointed with my 10th place finish at Worlds.”

“Are you? I mean, you got a personal best for your free skate.”

Georgi paused. It was obvious that he wasn’t happy with his overall position — any skater aiming for the top wouldn’t be happy either — but Georgi had come so close to breaking into the top ten at Worlds! That was an achievement, wasn’t it?

But whatever Georgi was thinking, Victor knew he wouldn’t voice it aloud the moment he looked at Victor and shook his head slightly, “I guess so. But I can also see what he means.”

There was definitely more to that story, but Victor wouldn’t push it.

“Hey,” he said, trying to salvage the good mood they’d had only moments before, “We never really got to celebrate your performance. What do you want to drink?”

~ * ~

The day before Victor was supposed to start physical therapy, he woke up at 7AM. Completely naturally, without his alarm jarring him awake. His bedroom was quiet. The blue light of civil twilight was filtering through the drapes. He felt completely at peace, comfortable beneath his duvet.

And then, with a soft _woof_ , Makkachin jumped on him and began furiously licking his face.

“Off, girl. Off!” Victor said, trying to push her, and any lingering drowsiness, away. Makkachin obeyed for a second, but was back to jumping on Victor the moment he set both feet on the floor.

“I thought you were better behaved than that.”

Makkachin tilted her head, almost innocently, before bounding out of the room.

“Alright, alright,” Victor muttered to himself as he padded over to his wardrobe, rubbing the sleep from eyes, “I’ll take you out.”

An hour later, Victor pushed his way back into his empty apartment, shivering. He was definitely wide awake now, having had to keep up with an excited Makkachin in the brisk April chill. As he pulled off his coat, he tested his knee. The light jog shouldn’t have aggravated it too much, especially since he was wearing his knee brace, but it didn’t hurt to make sure everything was alright. A dull ache, contrasting the sharp pain he had gotten used to in the past few weeks, greeted him when he lightly pressed on the inside of his leg. He flexed it. He stood on one foot. Other than a general weakness, he seemed to be fine. Good. The hard work to actual recovery would begin in 24 hours. But, for now, he could just enjoy his lazy Sunday morning before studies and his first interview of the off-season in the afternoon.

He had only finished pouring himself a cup of coffee, and was preparing Makkachin’s breakfast, when the soulmark on his back began to feel warm.

 _‘Victor! Victor, are you up?’_ It was Claire. And she sounded excited about something.

 _‘As always,’_ Victor said, lightly touching her mark, _‘What’s up? You sound in a good mood.’_

‘ _Kid, that’s an understatement! I just got engaged!’_

Well, she was right; ‘a good mood’ was definitely an understatement. Although the unexpected-ness of the good news stopped Victor dead in his tracks, he couldn’t help but smile at the pure glee in her voice. He took a sip of his coffee before replying.

 _‘Congratulations!’_ he said. And he meant it. He had never met Claire’s fiancé, Josh, but based on the way she talked about him every once in a while, Victor was sure she would be happy with him.

 _‘Thanks!’_ she said, _‘He said he’d been planning to propose for weeks, but it was a_ total _surprise for me.’_

_‘That’s…a good thing, though, isn’t it?’_

_‘Oh, sure,’_ Claire agreed, _‘But one, he’s normally so bad at keeping secrets that I can’t believe he got_ that _past me and, two, I was planning on proposing to_ him _on his birthday.’_

Victor couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows, _‘You were…’_

 _‘Yeah, yeah,’_ Claire interrupted him, _‘I’ve heard it from my own friends here too. ‘It’s more romantic if the guy does it’, ‘It’s not common at all’, yadda, yadda. But you know I’m not a common gal.’_

Victor chuckled, _‘Can’t argue with that.’_

_‘Would you let your significant other propose to you?’_

_‘The only special person in my life right now is Makkachin so I’m pretty sure that, if that ever happened, I’d be dreaming.’_ Almost as if she could sense that Victor was thinking about her, Makkachin padded up to him and let out a short bark. Victor placed her bowl on the floor in front of her and fondly scratched her behind the ears. _‘Or I’d been slipped some crazy drugs.’_

His comment got a huge laugh out of Claire, _‘True, true. Anyway, I think you’d definitely propose first.’_ Claire said, _‘You just seem like the super romantic, go-getter type who would_ want _to propose first.’_

_‘Do I?’_

_‘You don’t think I’ve heard the stories of “Russia’s Budding Cassanova, Victor Nikiforov”?’_

Victor couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that, _‘You know full well that the media likes to exaggerate my personality.’_

_‘You’re right. I remember your little fling with…Ksenia, wasn’t it? You were hilarious — constantly calling out to me for advice on how to do every little thing because you were afraid you weren’t acting romantic enough.’_

_‘I’m too busy with my career to think about getting married, anyway,’_ Victor said, although he could feel his face warm a little, _‘Besides, we were talking about you. Have you guys thought about when you’d want the wedding?’_

Victor’s attempt to change the subject was met with a short silence and he could almost _hear_ the gears turning in Claire’s head as she decided whether or not to let him get away with it. Eventually, she let a sigh through, giving in.

 _‘Sometime next year,’_ she said, _‘But I let Josh know that it_ had _to be in April or May.’_

_‘Oh…why?’_

_‘What do you mean “Why”?’_ she asked, laughing, _‘I love the springtime and I want to make sure you can come, silly! I’m not going to force you to come all the way here in the middle of your season!’_

Victor looked down at Makkachin, who was completely absorbed with the breakfast in front of her, _‘Thanks. I’ll see if I can make it.’_

He pulled out his phone to make a note of his possible event, but stopped before he unlocked it. He ran his finger along the fine cracks that spider-webbed across the top corner of his screen. They were the only blemishes on his otherwise-pristine iPhone, and had been there since January, when he had dropped his phone on New Year’s Day.

When Yelfim had…

He couldn’t bring himself to repair the screen or buy a new phone. Not when those cracks were the only sign he had left that Yelfim had existed as a part of him.

_‘Oh, and just so you won’t have to worry, Josh and I aren’t closing our marks. He has soulmates of his own so he knows what closing them would mean emotionally. You don’t have to worry about us cutting contact.’_

Victor internally let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t as widespread as it was in the past, but he knew it was still somewhat-common practice for people with soulmarks, upon marrying, to permanently close their marks as a sign of monogamy. Of course, as people’s perceptions of soulmarks being a mostly romantic connection began to change, and especially as divorce became more common, the practice began to be seen as more of an antiquated tradition in many places. It was definitely still a more common thing in some parts Russia, but he hadn’t been sure if he would lose his closest American confidant to tradition.

 _‘How are you doing otherwise?’_ Claire said, _‘Is your leg healing?’_

 _‘Well enough, I guess,’_ Victor said, _‘I’m starting physical therapy tomorrow, but I’m fine to walk around more now.’_

He was certainly _not_ going to tell her that he’d tried skating already. He hadn’t heard the end of it for days the last time he’d made the mistake of telling her when he’d risked his health disobeying Yakov’s orders.

_‘Alright. Don’t do anything to make aggravate it again between now and tomorrow. And even then, don’t work yourself too hard.’_

Victor rolled his eyes and began scrolling through his phone, reading the daily news, _‘Alright, “mom”.’_

 _‘Don’t “mom” me, V,’_ Claire immediately retorted, _’That makes me sound so old.’_

_‘You bring it on yourself by calling me “kid”!’_

_‘That’s because I’ve known you since you were a kid.’_

Victor smiled. This was a common exchange that the two of them had every once in a while and, in spite of Victor’s lighthearted protests, he really _was_ grateful that he had someone like Claire to dote on him sometimes. He’d only met the strawberry blonde-haired woman in the handful of times that he had either travelled to America for competition or she had traveled to watch him, but as the first soulmate to take him under her wing when he was only thirteen, Claire held a special place in Victor’s heart.

Yelfim may have been like a distant best friend, but Claire was like the older sister he’d never had.

 _‘You were still able to watch World’s though, right?”_ Claire asked, _“I tried to catch it on TV, but y’know…time differences…’_

 _‘Yeah, of course,’_ Watching Worlds hadn’t made him feel as bad as he originally thought it would. He supposed having Shousei in his head the whole time helped, _‘I had Shousei keeping me company.’_

_‘That’s right. Your own kid soulmate. What’s he like, now that you’ve gotten him to talk more?’_

_‘Um…’_ Victor thought back on the past few months. Shousei, for all his nervousness, seemed to be a genuinely good kid. He could tell that Shousei still felt intimidated by Victor’s mental presence, but he could also tell that, when comfortable, the kid could laugh and joke and banter as well as anyone Victor knew personally. He just needed to be more confident.

 _‘Let me clarify,’_ Claire interjected while he thought, _‘That I want to know what he’s like when you’re_ not _chatting his ear off.’_

Sometimes, Victor wondered if he got his own wisecracker personality from having someone like Claire in his head for so long.

_‘He’s still quite shy about talking to me, but he’s nice. He loves to talk about skating. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem very confident in his own abilities. He loves movies and his dog and his friends…’_

_‘Sounds like a good kid.’_

_‘He just idolizes me too much.’_

_‘I’m not surprised. Are you really not aware of how big you’re getting in the skating world? Especially with your talent?’_

_‘I know. I just wish he’d realize that I’m not some…some great legend who he can’t talk to. I’m only a few years older than him. I’m just a normal teen.’_

_‘Well,’_ Claire said, _‘Maybe you’re not doing a good enough job of showing him that. Maybe he’d open up more if you did the same.’_

_‘I’m supposed to be like a role model, right, since I’m the older soulmate. He doesn’t need to hear all that.’_

There’s a short silence before Claire spoke up again, her voice coming through much softer than before, _‘Victor, you’ve always been the kind of kid who tries to be as happy as possible, while showing the world_ exactly _that. But that also means you hide any frustration or worry behind a smile or a flippant comment or joke. He’s not opening up as much because you’re not meeting him halfway.’_

Victor remembered the last time he’d spoken to the boy. Shousei had gotten mad at him for being insensitive about his school worries and had seemed to calm down once Victor had mentioned his own worries about getting into university.

_‘I could try.’_

_‘Good!’_ Claire exclaimed. Her voice took on the more chipper tone she had had previously, _‘And if he’s a skater like you but younger, maybe give it time and you’ll be able to talk to him properly at a competition or something.’_

 _‘Yeah,’_ Victor sighed, _‘I hope so.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. It's another chapter without Victor skating, but I wanted to establish his character at this point in his life a bit more through dialogue. Andrei's namesake is the real-life Andrei Lutai, a Russian skater whose home rink was Yubileyny Sports Palace until the 2011-2012 season. I decided to make a small allowance with staying close to reality because the first Na Parakh café opened in 2009 in another part of St. Petersburg, but there’s one near Yubileyny Sports Palace now so… oh well. Also, the meals they eat are actually on the Na Parakh menu.
> 
> I think the stress Georgi feels to get out of Victor’s shadow that we see in the show is a later development. I'd like to imagine that their rivalry was friendlier when they were younger.
> 
> I wanted to make Claire a kind of older sister character for Victor; someone who he’s used to letting his guard down around. For some reason, when I imagined up her character, I thought of her looking like Nancy Drew.
> 
> How was this chapter? Good? Boring? In character? I'd like to know!


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